


The Thing in the Curtains Once Told Me

by YellowWomanontheBrink



Series: Community: Norsekink [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Community: norsekink, Gen, Kid Loki, Mental Instability, Possession
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-01-02 04:39:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowWomanontheBrink/pseuds/YellowWomanontheBrink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is one prince of Asgard. His name is Thor Odinson, the god of  Thunder.<br/>Then, there is Loki, foundling prince of Jotunheim, who haunts the halls of Asgard like a wraith, who claims that voices drive him to madness, and that things stalk him and whisper secrets in his ears.<br/>Everyone knows that Loki's claims are lies, just as the only truth about him is that he's also quite mad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VivaRocksteady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivaRocksteady/gifts).



> Link to Norsekink prompt
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://norsekink.livejournal.com/12132.html?thread=29631588#t29631588>Link%20Here</a>)

Thor was in his later stages of childhood when Odin brought his younger brother home. Odin had said that the tiny body cradled in his mother's arms was jotun, but the young Prince had found it difficult to see any evidence of the uncivilized monsters his tutors had warned him to be wary of in his lessons over and over again in the tiny body. With its pinched eyes and thin, sickly face, it was hard to believe the thing (so still, so small) was anything, though it certainly was not aesir, that much was sure.

"He will be your brother, if you wish it, and our ward," Odin explained, looking Thor straight in the eye, speaking to him as if he were a man and not a child. Unable to turn his eyes away from the intense gaze of his father, Thor nodded.  
"I will take good care of him, Father," he declared with far more bravado than he felt. Finally he turned his gaze onto the baby, who was still silent even as Frigga rocked him gently. What is its name? " 

" Why don't you pick his his name, Thor?" Frigga said before Odin could his mouth. "You have said you would take care of him, yes?"

"Loki," he said immediately, and Odin gave his wife a long suffering look. It was a name, a powerful, cursed name, so obviously jotun it would make any aesir wince. To give such a powerful name to a weak, nearly pitiful looking child was either a dangerous omen or a tremendous insult to their temperamental enemies. They did not tell Thor that many of the healers doubted that Jotunheim's 'tribute of goodwill' would live past the first month he had been given to Asgard. 

Thor of course knew none of this, and regardless of the fact that Loki was jotun, seemed to be taking to the royal family's ward quite nicely. Odin let out a tentative breath of relief as Thor gingerly took the baby from his mother's arms and bounced him clumsily, singing a nursery rhyme his nurse sung to him often. 

________________

Odin had been genuinely surprised when Heimdall's messenger boy walked into the room with a missive from Jotunheim, the fallen realm that had lost the privilege of power in a foolish lashout against Asgard, and found themselves thoroughly diminished in the wake of Asgard's might. He had spoken or negotiated with them since a little after Thor's birth and he had stolen their Casket.  
And when he ventured to Jotunheim with his trusted guard and an anticipation for an attack, he was surprised with a trade. 

"It is well known you have a penchant for collecting dangerous Allfather. You have stolen my Realm's heart in your hoarding quest for treasure that does not belong to you. I would have it back," Laufey had growled out. "If you were to remove a blight upon my kingdom. It is power, the nexus of it, and something I would believe you be interested in." 

He had narrowed his eyes in distrust. "And why should I give you this boon, Laufey? I've no reason to believe that you give me something you believe to be more powerful than your precious casket--"  
"I do so because I have no choice, Allfather, " the jotun sneered. "The thing attracts monsters, and I have little reason that it is anything otherwise. The Casket is more useful to me, anyway, and this you can believe as truth."

Odin had contemplated his options, before nodding hesitantly. "Bring it forward."  
He was shocked when a tiny bundle hardly bigger than his forearm was brought forth-- a half starved child, it was.

_______________________

Loki was a strange, strange child, and it wasn't until he started speaking that Thor realized that there might've been something seriously wrong with his new brother.  
Loki was constantly distracted, always looking at something beyond, unless he was speaking to Thor. The little jotun adored him, clinging to every part of Thor he could at every moment he could. The up and coming teenager was truly quite irritated by it, but he did not think he could bare to reject the him when he was already so alone. Loki was wary to the extreme, and would  
not hesitate to hurt his peers over the littlest things. He didn't even like to be near Frigga unless he absolutely had to, and Frigga was the Allmother. He had never known a child not to be comforted by his mother when she wasn't being all queenly, which she never was with Loki. 

Loki was well loved by his adoptive family, and trusted all of them not at all. 

Thor was headed to visit his little brother now, as he had locked himself into his room after tricking his nursemaid out of it. The door had vanished (a common occurrence, what with the little boys lack of control over his magic) and Thor had gone to get the temperamental child something to eat.

As he expected, the reappeared only for him.

“Brother?” a tiny, sad voice rang out in the dark mess in the nursery. The drapes were shut, the bed was mussed, chairs were overturned, and Loki was sittin on top of the miniature table where he did his studies. His large bluish green eyes glinted in the dark. Thor fought the urge to sigh, as he knew it would only upset Loki. Loki either was about to have or had just had one of his fits. He tried to push away the twinge of despair at the thought of not having been there to ward off the episode.

“Yes, Loki, it is me, Thor!” he said brightly, moving slowly, and when Loki only blinked, settling down into the chair that was now far too short for his long legs. He set the tray down and grasped Loki’s shaking hands. His hands swallowed Loki’s all the way up to his bird bone wrists. He kept his grip firm and looked directly into Loki’s eyes, and Loki focused back on his.

“Thor?”  
“Yes, Loki?”  
Loki immediately threw himself into Thor’s arms. For a moment, Thor feared that he would burst into tears, but he eyes were dry. 

“You were here before, right here in this room...in this chair...and…” he blinked, his sentence trailing off into silence.

“Yes, I was,” he said. “The nursery was my room before it was yours, because I’m older than you. When you’re older you shall have quarters of your own.”

The boy, no older than five, nodded and placed his head against Thor’s chest. Thor took a deep breath as they both sat in the silence. Loki shifted suddenly and stared intensely at the area behind Thor, and Thor had to turn Loki’s head back to his face him. Loki smiled nervously, his teeth small and white and glinting in the dim light.

“You wouldn’t do that, would you? You can’t,” Loki mocked the air , tucking his chin over Thor’s shoulder. “Not while he’s here.” 

“There is no one there, Loki,” Thor said chastisingly. Father had told him that Loki was getting too old to indulge in childish phantoms, and that it was Thor’s responsibility to discourage his bad habits. 

“There is! I’m telling you! It’s standing behind you...by the red cushion...Thor! It’s ripping Mother’s curtains! Tearing its dirty claws right into it...he says he’ll--”

“There is nothing there, Loki,” Thor insisted. the curtains had not moved at all, and Loki’s face was red with frustration.

“You never listen to me!” he insisted quietly, trying to pull away, but Thor held him firm. 

“Only when you insist on speaking tales, brother. You are getting a little too old for this; already you are taking your lessons and you speak very well. I love you, but I cannot indulge you in this. come, let us eat.”

Loki opened his mouth as if to protest, but one look from his older brother made him close it again and sullenly settle down to eat.

Thor sighed in relief when Loki picked up his spoon and began to fiddle with his fork when his eyes slid to the side and he pouted.  
“He’s gone anyway. You’ll need to call a servant to replace the drapes,” he said primly, kicking his legs against the chair and looking all over the dark room. How he saw anything in the mess in the dark was beyond the ken of Thor.

Thor just sighed again and Loki glared at him.

___________

Loki only got worse as the years went on.

Despite all of Thor’s best attempts to dissuade the boy from believing his delusion (how easily he could believe in fantasy, and yet his faith in the love of others was dangerously frail).  
Only Thor he had never doubted, and Thor liked to think it was because had never given Loki a reason. Seeing as the precocious boy could deduct reasons that even his father would have failed to pick out (or dream one up), Thor found this a very high honor.

It had been in the year of Thor’s eighteenth name day and Loki’s sixth that Loki had simply wandered onto the upper training fields--a place the boy was very clearly forbidden--and blasted apart one of the rings. The area was mostly empty, so why his brother would choose that area to attack--where in the Norn’s name did a child learn a spell like that?

The area he had shot was completely ashes.

“Ikol told me where to find you!” he shouted, his voice shrill and nearly unintelligible. So similar to shrieks of delight Thor could wrest from his brother when he tickled him, and yet….

Thor never wanted to hear such anguish in his brother’s voice again.

“I’ll kill you! I’ll find where you are, a-and I’ll kill all the monsters!” he spun in a circle, as if tracking an enemy, and fired again, heedless of whomever was in the path of his projectiles. One guard went down in pain as it completely obliterated his arm.

Magic was flying everywhere, and then Loki ran. The training were a wreck in his path as he fled--no chased-- whatever phantom his mind had created for him to find. Thor gave immediate chase, frantically ordering the guards to fetch Odin. He stopped for a moment and contemplated taking Mjolnir, but then made up his mind and grabbed the hammer.

Following the boy was painfully easy; as it was paved with destruction, and destruction was an easy path to follow.

Though he was running, he heard footsteps behind him, and was unsurprised to hear the familiar panting of the ever loyal Sif now sprinting beside him.

“I heard something new was wrong with your brother,” she huffed out. “What kind of monster could cause such mayhem?”

The crowds had thickened with people fleeing, and Thor now had to push past people. It did not stop him from sending Sif a glare.

“Watch your words, Lady Sif. I know not what has driven my brother to such madness,” he couldn’t hide the undercurrent of worry in his tone.

From the city the two tracked Loki out into the thick gardens that surrounded the back of the enormous palace grounds. He hadn’t gotten far; apparently Loki was exhausted by his warpath through the palace, if the swaying on his feet told Thor anything.

“Brother!” he called out. “Please don’t make me have to subdue you,” he said, voice firm in the way it always was when Loki indulged in his fantasies.

“Shut up!” Loki appeared not to have heard him. “Your army is dead now--you...you…..YOU!”  
His hands started glowing green again, and Thor lunged forward with a roar and tackled the smaller body to the ground.

Loki was sobbing and writhing, trying to beat Thor back but unable to free his arms. He motioned to Sif to run back and get help as he whispered platitudes into his brother’s ear.

“Hush now, brother, father is coming for you, and we’ll make this well.”

“Get away, get away, let me be! What have I ever done to you!” Loki cried, not paying any attention to Thor’s words, tears streaming down his face.

Indeed, Thor thought, what could have been done to you to have such visions trouble you so?

It was another ten minutes before Odin arrived, with Eir in his wake. Eir quickly put the panicking child to sleep as Odin began reassuring the crowd--yes, yes, the damage would be repaired, no, this would not happen again. 

Thor wished, just once, that he could be like his father and keep a more level head in a situation like this.

_________________

The next day, Thor had gone to see Loki in the healings rooms, with one question on his lips. He would always remember that one conversation with crystal clarity.

“Why did you do that, brother? You hurt a lot of people,” he said sadly. Loki’s eyes were glazed with the effects of the opium that had been hurriedly administered after his waking, it kept him docile and unfocused enough to not be able to use his magic. Thor hated it; hated having a conversation with a young boy hardly much taller than his hip.

“I...I don’t…“ he frowned. “Ikol told me to. The monster said he was coming, and everyone tells me that they’re not real..but I know that they’re real because I see them every day… he was right where he told me he’d be...but he hurt me and ran away...Thor! He’s out there, Thor! He wants to please his lady….”

Loki’s eyes were wide and bright in his ashen face, Thor grabbed his hand and gave him something real to hold onto. He only succeeded in making Loki flinch.

“Never listen to Ikol, Loki, do you understand me?” What wicked creature told a child to seek out dark magics like that? Despite whatever Odin told him, Thor was becoming more and more certain these weren’t childish fantasies or games thought up by a lonely boy. This was something else entirely. Perhaps he was a seer like his mother?

“But…” now Loki was confused. “Ikol was right! He was there..and I could fight him...I could hurt him…he’s a monster…”

“This wickedness at the hands of this phantom you call Ikol!” Thor said, fighting to stay quiet. “Never listen to him!”

Loki cried out, and Thor let go of his hands; he hadn’t realized he had been clutching it quite so tightly.

“Forgive me brother...give me a second, and I swear to protect you from this villain. I must compose myself,” he breathed out, leaving the room quickly.

Had he stayed a moment longer, he would have heard Loki dazedly mutter, “But Ikol is me, brother….”

______________

Despite Loki’s illness, he was by no means a stupid boy. He could pick up things far quicker than other children, and magic came as easy to him as breathing, despite the cuffs that were bound to his skin since his tender years when he tried to destroy the monster that hid himself from others. Loki knew that what he saw was truth.

He was in the library when he heard the harsh breathing and the footsteps. He knew those footsteps better than his own. The smooth wood beneath his fingers grew grainy and fuzzy, and the walls dissolved into dark holes in space. He tried his best not to outwardly show his fear, but the shaking of his hands was unmistakable.  
“Little monster,” the Other monster’s voice rang out in the chambers. Loki bowed his head and clenched his fists, resisting the urge to rub the cuffs that locked away the stirrings of magic in his soul.

“I can’t help you,” he said. “The master’s Lady sh-shall have to wait for him.”

The annoyed hissing echoed in the room, and the silence was overwhelmed with quiet clicking that filled his ears and made his ears crawl with the sensation of sound. He gave into his urges and rubbed the cuffs nervously.

“Using what we have gifted you against us, have you? I should burn those marks into your flesh, but Master has need of you still. Do not assume you are non-expendable, whelp.”

Loki shook his head very quickly; he wasn’t Thor, he wasn’t so strong that he could vanquish his enemies fearlessly, nor was he so intimidating that he could silence his enemies with one look, as the Allfather could. All he could do was resist. He was fairly sure he could resist. 

Either that, or he could die.

_____________

In the year of Thor’s twentieth name day, and Loki’s eighth, Loki had his worst breakdown that Thor could ever remember. 

He had just come back from Nornheim with Sif and the Warriors when the castle was tense with worry. All the nobles gave him pitying look as he walked quickly through the castle. Loki had not greeted him on the Asbru Bridge, as he always did every single time Thor went on his quests. Clenched in his hands was a stone that Thor had taken from the frozen rivers that flowed all the way to Helheim, a little memento for his brother. Sif walked with him. Thor found that she did that more often these days.

Loki had spent so much time lucid, if unhappy, and Thor had assumed that he did not see his frightening visions anymore. He seemed dead and disconnected from the world, and sometimes he would spend days in bed in his jotun form in the dark, but other than that, Loki seemed as normal as he usually was. Though Loki had never truly been a happy child.

Perhaps….it was nothing serious, he thought, but Thor had always been a terrible liar, even to himself.

The healing ward had the curtains closed, and Loki was sequestered underneath a thin sheet on the large bed. Frigga sat next to him, smoothing the bandages that covered his face underneath his nose. Shadows were underneath his eyes, prominent even in the dim lighting.

“Mother,” Thor asked, voice heartbroken as he gazed down at the too thin frame underneath the sheets. “What has happened to him while I was gone?”

She sniffled, just a tiny bit, let small tears well up in her eyes. “He had another fit.”  
Thor frowned. Loki had had many different fits, but never had it resulted in himself being truly injured, at least not to this extent, where he lied emaciated and injured upon a lonely hospital bed. 

“Was it...the visions?” he asked hesitantly, praying that Loki couldn’t hear him. When Loki heard Thor speak of his condition, he refused to talk to his older brother for weeks at a time, but without Thor, he had no one else. Thor tried to treat him as normal possible, and taught his friends to do the same.

“It has been quite a while since you’ve been home, Thor,” Frigga said instead. Thor furrowed his brows. “You know how well Loki has taken to the spear and his daggers?” 

Yes, Thor thought, but he despises them. He settled for nodding, eyes narrowing in suspicion at the tale his mother was avoiding telling him.

“Well, a few days past, Loki broke into the Weapons Vault,” Frigga said, wringing her fingers. “He heavily wounded two guards and killed another, and nearly made off with some of the more ...dangerous items in that vault. Abominations that should never have been created. Odin had to be called down to subdue him.”

Thor blinked, and realized that tears had welled up on his eyelashes. Loki? Gentle, sharp, witty Loki? Screaming, fearful, brilliant Loki? His brother in all but blood, and only because he wasn’t old enough to partake in the rites of blood-brotherhood?

“No,” Thor said, flatly. He refused to believe it. Frigga shook her head sadly. 

“Such a clever boy, he was,” she murmured, running her hand through his inky hair. Thor felt like batting it away; she spoke as if he were already gone.

“Is,” Thor said forcefully. “Is. He’ll be alright. Loki has an unbreakable will, and whatever drove him to such evil shall be purged from his spirit if it is the last thing I do.” 

Frigga shook her head. “The family of the one guard he killed demands retribution from Asgard. Loki might not have been in his right mind, but he will still need to punished. We’ve told him time and time again that he needs to earn to distinguish the real world from his fantasies, but I’m starting to think that maybe he isn’t able to.” At Thor’s crushed look, she laid a reassuring hand on his broad forearms. “Worry not, my son. Asgard is home to the best healers this universe can offer. He will be okay. We will help him.”

Thor tried to put his faith in his mother’s promise, but gazing at the bruised, prone form lying in the bed, doubt welled strong in his heart.

___________

Asgard’s penalty for Loki’s crimes were fitting, Thor supposed. He hated them.  
Loki was confined to the palace walls, constantly supervised. His magic was bound completely by two thin cuffs that looked like shackles more than the little bracelets they had been before, and his studies were monitored by the scholars. He was forbidden from practicing with weapons or the arts of war.

Loki was absolutely miserable, and there was nothing Thor could do about it. His powerlessness weighed on his mind like a stone, and so he went out of his way to try and make Loki feel better.

Where before, Loki might have cried, he stared listlessly out of his window. Where he might have laughed, he curled up in his bed and slept the day away. He lost weight quickly and bags and shadows framed his formerly bright eyes. He had more and more of his fits, but now, he refused to tell even Thor or Frigga about them. He remained in his chambers for so long even the guards grew lax in their duties.

Loki was becoming unrecognizable, and Thor was unable to stop it.  
So Loki had taken the task upon himself.

Thor supposed that he should became suspicious when Loki had called for him early one morning with a short, slim box about a foot and a half long. His eyes glittered with something Thor couldn’t identify.

“Brother,” he said quietly, “this is for you. I made it a little while ago, and I thought that you would appreciate it best.” He looked away. “Promise that you shan’t open it here.”

Thor tried his hardest to smile--but something was wrong-- and took the gift. Loki smiled--the first in what felt like years--and pushed Thor out of his room. 

“Go on now, brother. You’re probably very busy and don’t want to spend much time locked up in this dank little dorm!” 

Thor had said something, but the door had closed before he could finish his remark. All his persistent knocking would not make the door reopen, and so he walked away, running one thick finger down the side of the embellished box. shaking it lightly. Usually he tried not to shake the presents that Loki gave him, as they tended to be incredibly fragile and sensitive (and even more often things of utter beauty) but he was over curious about what could suddenly pull his brother out of the listless trance he had been in lately. Even Sif had stopped asking after him. 

The whole of Asgard pretended that Loki did not exist, and so Thor made sure to pay special attention to the nearly forgotten prince.

He tucked it into his belt--it fit there neatly--and prepared to head to his rooms to open it in private when he was pulled aside by one of the young warriors training to guard the castle. Apparently someone had called holmgang upon another member of the nobility and they wished Thor to over see it, People’s feuds were not often the most interesting part of Thor’s duties, but they were not the dullest either, and so he went without a hassle.

Loki’s gift remained tucked into his belt until nightfall after dinner, when Thor stumbled into his chambers slightly tipsy and mostly merry. He unclasped his cape, and it fell to the ground in a wash of red. Throwing himself onto one of the luxurious fur lined recliners, the box clattered noisily to the ground and he jolted in surprise in the silence.

A wash of shame came over him when he realized he had forgotten Loki completely, and he hurried to open the box, tearing off the reflective top to reveal an elegantly wrought sheath of a short, thin blade no longer than his forearm. He blinked and drew the blade--reflective metal that showed his bleary features right back at him. The blade was double edged and so sharp he could hardly see the very edge of it. Gently he pressed his fingertip against the edge--light enough that no proper Aesir blade would cut flesh, but he hissed in pain as blood welled up on his fingertips. His finger purpled and swelled, and he quickly put his thumb to his mouth to suck out the poison before it could travel farther into his bloodstream. 

On the hilt, inscribed in pale greenish gold filigree was the word “Laevateinn”. The magic radiating off the seax made him want to cringe and drop the sword, had it not been for Loki’s recognizable magical signature: so unlike any of the other mages of Asgard, and too dark and heavy to be anything like that of the Alfar or Vanir. Young as he was, and as inexperienced as he was, Loki had forged this sword. It light handed and quick, just like Loki’s fairy-like footwork whenever they sparred. In fact, had it not been for Thor’s (and some of the others) impressive stamina, he did not doubt he would have lost many of their spars.

With the darkness radiating, Thor knew this wasn’t a blade of a man whose hands would be stayed. This was forged ultimately with the intent to kill. No mercy.

Twirling the light metal in his hands, he observed the odd shininess of the what he assumed was uru--whoever had forged it had forged and enchanted it in a way that was not the dwarven way, or even the aesir way. Where had Loki learned such craft.

Rather, why had Loki given such a fine seax so perfectly unsuitable to Thor to him?

Curious, he peeked in the box, looking for an explanation of some sort. Out drifted slowly, a little piece of paper,. Thor caught it deftly and skimmed the neat tiny words.

His eyes widened in horror, and he ran to the only person he knew powerful enough to help Loki: his father.

Loki’s door down was blasted down with a single burst of energy from Gungnir, and his personal healer, Frigga, and Thor all in quick procession hurried through the darkened chambers. In his tiny study, Loki was slumped in the corner of the room, lying in a cold pool of sticky brackish liquid that Thor quickly identified as Jotun blood. 

His eyes were closed, and his skin was pale blue and cold.

_______________  
After the incident, Thor unashamedly doted on his little brother. His hallucinations worsened, though the incidents of lashing out had practically vanished. Rather, Loki had taken to hurting himself in the most horrific ways possible.

Though it was unlike Thor to want to write anything down, he had nabbed a small journal from the ladies’ hall and began cataloguing the worst of these instances.

Loki seems to favor the blade. He took one to his arms after breaking his wrists to remove the cuffs and carved the sigils that bound his magic into his skin.

Twenty nine marks on his arms, taken throughout this fortnight.

He was mesmerized by the candle in my room this evening.He passed his hands through the flame and told me he wanted to see if ‘the frozen runt could burn’. He did.

And so on. Thor never did return Laevateinn, nor did he entrust it to the vault, as the blade was too fine, too foreign for the treasury or the armoury.He had a feeling that Loki knew he had kept it, as his eyes always found the drawer that Thor had bequeathed it too whenever he visited the room. Loki frequented Thor’s room often.

Loki was no longer shadowed by guards with every step, and he was no longer banished to his rooms for fear of him taking his wrists to the blade once more. All the sharp things had vanished nearly overnight from Loki’s exquisite chambers. Thor noticed that Loki pretended he did not notice, but Thor liked to think that he knew his brother well enough to know when he was lying.

Loki was good at that, Thor realized, when Loki had finally began attending dinners again with the rest of the court. The young prince was watched suspiciously, with uneasy eyes as if they feared he would fall into a fit right then and there. Thor rolled his eyes and jovially nudged Sif, who was sat next to him at one of these feasts. The second prince sat next to his mother across the table, because he was technically at a lower standing of respect than the lady warrior was.

Thor preferred not to think of it like that. That the second prince was not held at high enough regard by the people to be sat next to his brother was so shameful he preferred not to acknowledge it as such.

“I would never have thought that the brave warriors of asgard could be so unsettled by a boy. Look how they all watch Loki so,” he said incredulously. “He has been well for many months now.”

Almost. But that was for Thor’s eyes alone.

Sif bit her lip and watched Thor with narrow eyes. “Perhaps you blind yourself where your brother is concerned, but please do not mock these warriors. Many have suffered at the hands of your brother’s madness. They say he’s a skywalker, you know, and he knows things he should not know. He is an agent of chaos, and an unrepentant menace to boot.”

“He merely needs help,” Thor gritted out, staring now at the thin face and big hands of the his little brother. No one had ever really sung praises of Loki, but never had they spoken ill. His illnesses and youth tended to allow him some leeway.

“I believe it is because you dote too much on him. He’s hardly a child anymore,” she said, as if she hadn’t just insulted his brotherhood. “Besides, didn’t you tell me he’s not really your brother? He’s adopted, is he not?”

Loki’s adoption was not well spoken of amongst the aesir, and so went mostly unacknowledged, despite the royal family’s loyalty to the little foundling, but most especially Thor’s. The aesir did not speak badly of him, but rather pitied and tried their best to ignore him, as one would a senile old man or a disgraced warrior. 

Most were wise enough to know not to mention Loki’s adoption to Thor’s face, lest they face the infamous wrath of the thunder god. Sif had no such limits, so certain she was of herself in being able to face him. Thor did not begrudge, because she was a warrior able enough to actually do so, if not take him down entirely.

“You think he acts out like he does because I pay him too much attention? If not me, then Loki has no one,” Thor said.  
“That’s exactly the problem,” Sif said. “He’s never had that chance on his own.”

Thor blinked. He had never really thought of it that way. It had always been him and Loki, and he could never really imagine Loki with anyone besides him. Even his teachers and nursemaids had never stuck around long enough to really know the damaged boy.

“So,” he said, still uncertain about abandoning his brother. “you want me to abandon Loki--”

“Not abandon,” Sif interjected quickly. “Just...let him be on his own for a little.”  
“But he’s always on his own,” Thor said mournfully.

“Around people, so that he might pick his own friends. Because, no offense to you, my dear shield brother, but you are not the right type of person for someone like Loki.”

“And just what type of person do you think Loki is?” As strange as his brother was, he would not stand for anyone trying to insult him, not even Sif, who he loved dearly.

“Truthfully? Your brother is dishonest and cruel, and he does not know right from wrong. If he were anything other than a jotun, I’d think him a villain.!”

This was what he loved and hated about Sif; she was brutally honest and softened her words for no one. Not even Thor.

“Is this what others think of him as well? as some beastly frost giant?”

She chuckled darkly. “Well, obviously not a giant Thor. But he is different, you know that no one knows better than I what it is to be different. He needs to stop depending on you and face his own weaknesses.”

Thor could see the logic in her words. The burden of Loki’s illness had been long weighing on him, and perhaps he was the one holding his younger brother back. Loki was technically forbidden from doing the things that Thor excelled at, and what few things Loki did find joy in, Thor could not relate.

Sif had never let him go astray before.

So, he let Loki be, and treated hima s any other aes boy his age was expected to be treated. when Loki cried, Thor wiped his tears and told him to man up, and when Loki haunted thor’s bedrooms in the late of the night, complaining of relentless nightmares, Thor told him he would no longer indulge in his fears.

He pretended he did not see Loki’s eyes deaden with every rejection, as the young jotun shuffled out of the room with his head held high with shaky, premature pride, and eventually, Loki stopped coming to him at all.

Thor threw himself into carousing, so that he might have to spend as little time as possible in the palace that Loki had taken to haunting like a dreadful wraith, and he stayed late into the feasting halls because Loki’s room was close enough that if he screamed loud enough, Thor could hear it through the sitting room walls. 

So as Loki approached him less and less, Thor followed and did not seek out Loki.

_______________________

It was another couple fortnights before Thor’s coronation that he thought to find his elusive younger brother.

Loki’s chambers were tiny and under furnished; his sitting room was without personality, though Thor knew that Loki kept everything to himself in his study to the side. Unused to the darkness of the room, Thor strode over and opened up the drapes, and sunlight streamed into the room.

The room was the organized chaos of a scholar, though Loki’s lacked the dust that the other seithrkonr’s room were practically drowning in. The entire area was meticulously clean; but then, Thor already knew that Loki panicked at the sight of dirt mud, or blood and so he had been vigilant in cleaning himself before barging into his brother’s room.

Always hyper aware of what was going on around him, Loki poked his head from his room, scowling.

“You finally decided to visit me, Brother?” Loki inquired before stepping out. His gangly limbs were bare, and his hands looked too big for his arms. his wide green eyes were questioning, and his black hair slicked back perfectly, as it always was.

On his good days, Loki was so meticulous Thor could hardly keep up with his perfectly scheduled, straightforward lifestyle.

On his bad days, Loki was so chaotic he destroyed what little order remained around him.

Luckily, this was a good day, a very good day, seeing as the bags underneath Loki’s eyes were not quite as dark as they usually were and he looked like he had actually eaten something in the past day or two. And the fact that Thor hadn’t been blasted back by an errant strand of magic and Loki wasn’t talking to the fictitious specters of his own imagination.

“I have not forgotten, I have merely been very busy--”

“With your coronation I presume,” Loki drawled, slinking over to one of the couches in the sitting room and lounging indecently over it. “I figured. I suppose that I should be pleased that you bothered to involve, am I right?”

“Of course not,” Thor retorted. “You are my brother. You will be in the seat of honor--”

“That is reserved for warriors, thor. Don’t be naive.”

For an adolescent, Loki was far too caustic, Thor thought. Though, he was most likely right; the only person any of the aesir would accept as the King’s Hand would be someone that had earned the title of warrior, something that Loki was too young for anyway.

“Nonetheless, I swear on my honor as an os that you shall not be forgotten,” Thor swore.

“I don’t care anyhow; it won’t make any difference,” Loki said tiredly. “I know you didn’t come here to brag about your coronation Thor, that’s why you have your friends. What do you want?”

“I just wanted to see you. It has been many a night that have not spent a day with you, or asked how you fare.”

Under Loki’s scrutinous eye, Thor felt like fidgeting, though he was soon saved from having too as Loki nodded. He half smiled and looked around nervously.

“Let me get dressed brother, and then maybe we can go for a ride.”

That was the last time that Thor spent time with his brother before his unexpected banishment.

__________________

“All of the worthy of the Nine will be represented,” Odin said, “And then some outer dignitaries that we have confirmed to be non hostile and worthy to walk upon Asgard.”

“That’s not true,” Loki interjected, and Thor started and stared at his brother, who had been silent the entire meeting, and all the meetings before. Normally, he held his tongue and all his opinions to himself. “He says that other Realms have achieved things worthy of notice, and that the arrogance of the aesir blinds all.”

Thor chuckled nervously; Loki had spoke of an outside party. Once the younger prince started up with that, he insisted with it all the way through the conversation, and sometimes beyond that.

“Who told you to speak such foolishness?” one of the older men asked, choosing to entertain the young prince rather than dismiss him in total as he usually would be. Thor wished that he wouldn’t. It tended to give Loki ideas, and any idea not Loki’s own tended to turn out badly.

“He’s always been there, and he says he’s me.” Loki said, not elaborating. “But there are other friendly powers in the universe, however much in their infancy they are. They are also just as susceptible to death and disease as the aesir…” he frowned.

“for a scholar, he sure doesn’t know much, eh?” one of the councilmen said. “Poor youth.”

“Oh, there are lots of ways to kill someone. He says he’s done them all for his mistress, but never the aesir. He says that you are too pathetic and few to offer up much challenge. Beware the prince’s coronation.” Loki got up and walked out of the room, wringing his hands furiously--a sign thor had come to realize mean that he was listening to the voice in his head.  
Thor frowned. He could only just tolerate loki’s fantasies, but this was completely inappropriate, especially for a prince of a standard as high as Asgard’s!

He would speak to Loki later.

____________________

He did not speak to Loki later, it turned out, and he came to regret as he walked down the grands receiving room of the king, soon to be his hall. He would rule Asgard, he would be the king. The people already loved him, and he was ready to receive.

He would impress all of the nine with his strength, just as he had impressed the warriors of his home. Tales of his valor would spread from the Nine, and perhaps then, he would be revered in all throughout the universe.

Thor was quite the creature of ambition, and this day was to be the first in a long line of days that would be solely his. 

He indulged in his vanity where he normally would not, and he was confident, despite whatever people told him.

“Are you sure you are ready for this?” Loki had inquired once at dinner. I don’t think you really understand the fact that you’ll be protecting a whole universe, and you’ll be responsible for nine of them…”

“Brother, do not be envious, I’m sure I can find a throne for you if you really want it,” Thor joked, slapping Lokio jovially on the back. “You know not of what you ask. When the throne is my seat and with Mjolnir in my hands, you shall be as protected as you have always been.”

“But that’s not what I asked.” he then mumbled under his breath as Thor guzzled the mead quickly, warming his insides pleasantly as the crowds socialized.

The next morning, after the feast, at sundown was to be the ceremony. He stood in the back room, fastening his cloak and staring at his reflection in his helmet. 

A knock surprised him at the door, and he jumped a little. “Enter,” he commanded pensively.

The nerves were starting to catch up with him, and he licked his lips and smoothed his beard, looking at his reflection uncertainly.

“It appears that you do have an ounce of common sense brother, if you’re nervous,” Loki teased, sidling over, imp like in his cautiousness.  
It had been such a long time since Thor had seen Loki in his formal wear that he almost didn’t recognize the boy; the simple unadorned circlet over the hood of the black undershirt Loki wore obscured his slicked back hair and the plain green tunic made him look thinner than he actually was. He had forgone the more elaborate of his formal wear, choosing no other over tunics and he wore a plain black cape. A far cry from the personalized armor that Thor wore. 

Then again, he was yet a boy, and not a man, and so was not allowed to decorate himself reminiscent of his great deeds.

Thor privately doubted that Loki would ever achieve anything great enough to esteem him in the aesir’s eyes.

“I am not nervous, Loki,” Thor growled out. He was far too on edge to tease, at the moment at ease. Loki should have known better, and so he ignored the flicker of hurt in his eyes when Thor did not call him brother.

“I’m sure you aren’t,” Loki said cattily, though the corners of his eyes were smiling with far more strain than before. “I just came to see the GReat Prince before he becomes the next GReat King, yes? Or am I forbidden the pleasure?”

“Of course not, you are welcome everywhere, brother,” Thor said.

Loki frowned and jumped to sit on the table that Thor was at. “I tire of small talk brother. Please, I know that you shall not believe me, and I know that I shall be punished dearly for this, but I’m telling you, something bad will happen. Guard the vaults.”

“I will not--”

“It is not a dream Thor! Do not speak to me as if I were out of my mind! I know of what I speak, and if you choose not to listen to my warning of the evils that will befall you on your coronation, believe me when I tell you to raise the security on the vaults.” 

Before Thor could say another word--a refusal, of course,--Loki vanished.

His eyes widened, because he had not seen Loki perform magic in nigh a century.

______________

He managed to put the petulant child out of his mind of course, as he walked down that aisle and the aesir cheered, and even the foreign dignitaries cheered, and their adoration flooded his heart with love. 

He smiled, he winked, he practically danced down that aisle, where his mother and father awaited him on his day of triumph. 

Frigga’s face was tense with nervousness, though her eyes glowed with pride, and he winked; she only rolled her eyes at his antics. But her face was far less tense, and so Thor smiled wider.

As his father swore him in (the crowd had gone silent, and he could feel their eyes on his back, and he tried to be as confident as possible, for a king is not weak in the face of his people) he did not take notice of who was in attendance and who was not. He pushed down the feelings of hurt that bubbled up when he did not see Loki, and instead basked himself in his father’s words, hardly hearing their meaning, but exuberantly swearing his allegiance to each pledge asked of him. 

He only noticed when Odin fell silent, and so too did the crowds follow, and all of Thor’s exuberance and confidence bled away with the noise.

Gungnir clanged on the ground, and to Thor, the sound was deafening.

 

_________________________

After all the hustle and bustle, in which two unfortunate guards were killed (Thor was too upset to care for their names, although he was fairly certain that he probably knew the deceased) he paced his room, anger clouding his mind. He wanted to do something rash, and especially wanted to confront his father. Because after all the chaos, still nothing was being done. And that was what had truly frustrated him.

But despite his confidence in ascending the throne that morning, like any good son, he still slightly feared his father’s wrath. Mjollnir hummed comfortingly by his side, and he gripped the handle of the hammer as a reassurance.

“Who was it?” he grumbled, pacing angrily. “Who would dare commit such treason on my day!?”

Pushing down his feelings of uncertainty, he focused on his rage, because anger was the safest emotion for a king to feel, besides contentedness. 

“I’ll smite whoever was guilty,” he muttered. “They shall learn to fear the wrath of Thor!”

The door opened, and not even turning to see who entered the room, he ordered them out.

“You’d order your old father out that way, son?” Odin’s gruff, high voice asked tiredly.

Without his magnificent helmet, Odin looked older than Thor had ever seen him. His white hair was in disarray, and his armor was dusty with the gray dust of the Vault; that was what Thor had heard was compromised. 

The Great Vault of Asgard, holding treasures of dangerous and great power, exceeded by no one. Thor had been in there several times as a young child; it was the one room that he had never brought Loki into, as it was the domain of an Odinson and an Odinson only. Even Frigga had not the permission to enter, and Loki was by blood a jotun. 

How the vault had been permeated was beyond the prince.

“Father,” Thor growled out. He was still angry at Odin for willfully keeping Thor uninformed, and he did not have the patience for respectful pleasantries he did not feel at all. “What has happened? Who has dared to trample upon the pride of an Odinson?”

Odin looked down his nose at Thor, as if mentally willing the man back into obedience, but Thor stood his ground. 

“A minor setback, son. Merely a fleet of fools eliminated by the DEstroyer. They were not well informed.”

“What were they after?” Thor growled, standing up; he was taller than his father now, he idly noticed. 

“It is of no concern; they were stopped.” Odin replied dryly.

“It is of my concern, as they insulted me and my pride!” 

“Than your pride is too easily bruised for a would be king.”

Flustered in a way that only his father could make him feel, Thor stood straighter. “Aye, perhaps it is. And perhaps you have so little of it that you do not see and insult when it is delivered.”

“I’ve not a mood for flyting, boy, hold your tongue. I tell you, it is of no consequence. “

“If it of no consequence, then you shall tell me! I am wise enough to determine what is of consequence and what is not of consequence!” Thor roared at his father, losing his temper and patience for the king’s constant dismissals.

“You will respect me, Thor. Perhaps I was hasty to think you were worthy of something as important as kingship,” Odin said angrily.

“I will respect who I will, and I see no great warrior before me.” Thor replied snottily. Odin scowled.

“It was a race of mindless monsters, led by a wicked leader that invaded our vaults. they came in a hoard, and were all immediately eliminated by the Destroyer. Show that you know of whom I speak and prove to me that you are not nearly quite so arrogant and clueless as I have just found out. You disappoint me, son,” he said wearily.

Thor fought to hide the blush of shame that crawled slowly up his cheeks, but instead sneered, pretending to be unimpressed. Thor did an awful lot of pretending.

For all his pretending, he did not take his father’s words lightly, and so sought out this race of monsters. He would banish this new lack of faith, and prove to his father that he would be a far better king than Odin. Where Odin was hailed Allfather, Thor would be something far, far more impressive. 

He had yet to think up something. After, perhaps, he had discovered the name of these mysterious intruders Odin was so determined to keep secret.

______________________________

The following morning was greeted with a lot of surprised scribes. Thor did not often enter the library, and when he did, it was a marvel to be seen. His brow furrowed in concentration as he worked his way slowly through thick tomes and ancient encyclopedias of history, Thor was searching specifically for ‘monsters’.

And so he found the jotnar.

Contrary to popular belief, Thor was not entirely oblivious to what was said about Loki’s people. He did not even doubt the tales of flesh eating monsters that lived on a cold barren wasteland; perhaps that was part of the reason that he treasured his little brother quite as much as he did, for he was grateful to his father for having blessed the prince with the opportunity of growing up in Asgard.

Loki being of Jotunheim was hardly even mentioned to the boy; with him and all his problems, belonging to a race of inferiors was not something Thor felt was necessary for him to focus on. 

But Thor highly doubted that the jotun had invaded the vault. He had been to the desolate planet once before, in his boyhood, and had been quickly retrieved by Odin, but not before he had witnessed the ruin of the barren lands. 

Perhaps he could ask. Loki could not possibly be the odd one out, could he have? They had to be up for negotiation, especially if Thor told them he was blood brother to a jotun. And that a warrior always kept his word.

Shutting the large book, he stood up, cracking his back. His brother was on his mind again; Thor had not seen Loki since the day before his coronation, no even in the library, which was strange, all things considered. The library and his study were his most frequent haunts when he wasn’t in the healing room. Thor rarely ran into him outside.

Shrugging, on his cloak, he set out, thinking of who would be worthy of going on such an excursion with him. 

Thor had led large parties before through perilous lands, and small contingents into ambushes and glorious victories. But Jotunheim was an unknown, and he thought that perhaps it would be a better to bring a small party; it would be easier to escape from hostiles in that manner.

Obviously, he picked the Warrior Lady Sif and the Warriors Three. 

Without a care for the former king’s permission, or even to tell his mother or Loki that he would be gone ( it would not have been the first time Thor forfeited an explanation when he traveled--a bad habit he had learned from his father) he and his chosen band had showered, rearmed themselves (Thor with only Mjollnir), dressed warmly, and rode to the Bifrost.

Of the five that left, only Thor would not return.

__________________________

Looking back in hindsight, Thor figured that marching uninvited into a castle and demanding answers of a surprised king was not necessarily the smartest idea. 

The frost giants that populated the ruined castle were hideous, as Thor expected. Their skin was rough and blue, lined with scars, and they stood at twelve to fifteen feet tall, all with permanently leering faces. They all blurred into the dark landscape, and all their faces looked the same. thor could not imagine Loki, thin, sickly, pale Loki fitting in here, not with his seithr and fits and hallucination. He would be killed in an instant. 

He disliked Laufey though. the king was mocking and cruel and held no true respect for his betters, and Thor had to constantly quash the urge to teach the ugly bastard just who he spoke to. He didn’t handle insults well, and a fight broke out easily enough when a lowly soldier dared to insult his position. 

He was respected prince. He was no woman, and especially not an argr man as the foolish jotun dared to insinuate. 

As angry as his father was, he liked to think he taught them.

He was not nearly quite so pleased when he slammed into Midgard, tired and powerless with his father’s final words ringing in his his ears--  
You are a stupid, stupid child!

Loki didn’t know of Thor’s banishment until he overheard it whilst spying on the Warriors.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry. I have no words to describe how sorry I am. This chapter fought me, adn hopefully it came out well enough that you like it? It was originally supposed to be a two shot, but it looks like it's going to be a three shot. Definitely; before the end of this year, this fic will be concluded, with maybe a short epilogue if I feel like it.

The minor villain of the week was thrust into the S.H.I.E.L.D. containment vehicle roughly, while the Hulk roared his victory to the air. Thor, the other first line Avenger that had been sent out to neutralize the threat, slammed to the ground hard. There were no spectators--the ‘town’ was an abandoned set of labs just off the New Zealand Highway.  Thor was mostly thankful for that, but not nearly as thankful as Bruce. Thor supposed he could understand his reasoning. Thor could be destructive when he wanted to, but he could also be gentle. The Hulk had proved himself to be only mostly destructive, besides the occasional moments of lucidity.

Stretching and cracking his backbone, Thor headed towards the jet that had silently landed behind him. Per his expectations, Tony was in there, smirking.

“Hey, Point Break, I trust you got that one over there?” he gestured in the general direction that the villain was taken away to.

“Aye, Man of Iron. This foe has been vanquished.”  Thor said, placing his hammer back in his belt, where it sat snugly, as it had been for the past two years. Two years since Thor had been on Midgard.

Ever since his botched coronation and sub consequent banishment, Thor had been volunteering his abilities to the protection of Midgard.

It had started with a scientist, as Thor had rapidly learned the mages of Earth preferred to be called, and her name was Jane Foster. Never before had Thor ever encountered such a glorious woman as she, and she had opened his eyes, if only a little, to things he realized he had been blind. Not only his pride, but to his own close mindedness. Things he had never really even thought about were shoved down his throat--a delightful Midgardian phrase he had picked up from the Hawk--and he took to it with some difficulty.

Especially the men performing seithr— _that_  he still could not get used to. Apparently that was the normal, and the educated man was respected just as much as the warrior.

Midgard was a strange, backwards little world.

“ _Thor_ ,” Stark called, waving his hand in front of the taller man’s face. “You all there, buddy? I was kinda talking to you.”

“I was not listening, forgive me. Shall we return to the tower?” Thor asked hastily.

Tony paused, then smiled charmingly. “Sure thing. Let me just tell the pilot to start up the engines again. Get on.”

Thor climbed on, the feeling of routine settling upon him once more. The jet roared in his ears--not as loudly as the wind would, were he flying with his hammer, but loud enough that it made an impression on the prince. It would probably leave his ears ringing for a few hours after he landed.

Walking to his chair, which was specially placed so that the chair was far enough from the row in front so that he might be able to stretch his legs, he leaned back and reclined the back of the chair.

One of the private stewardesses (Thor always identified them by the gun and armor they wore) approached him with a smile on her red painted lips, a strange bit of courtesy in the strange, disrespectful way that servants treated the people they were serving that was accepted among most cultures of Midgard. She offered him the usual fare--little nuts in plastic bags and fancy water and other things. Unless Thor was feeling peculiarly peckish, he usually inclined to turn down the proffered treats.

Today, a feeling of unease was about him, and he decided to accept a bag for once. He fell into sober thoughts as he munched on the salty peanuts. Perhaps the dryness of his mouth would dry his eyes as well.

This particular faceless fiend had sought revenge against a brother. It made Thor sad, for his own lack of contact with Loki.

He had managed to avoid thinking of Loki (mostly) for the entirety of his stay on Midgard. His estranged brother very rarely brought memories pleasant enough for musing. More often, it swamped him with guilt; he had failed to speak to the young prince for the entirety of his time on Midgard.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the muffled clicking of shoes on the fine carpet of the planes. Thor looked and saw the passive expression of Agent Coulson, who smiled blandly down at the lounging áss.

“Son of Coul,” Thor greeted gruffly.

“Coulson, Thor,” he corrected with no real force behind his words. “Forgive me. but S.H.I.E.L.D. still has need of you.”

Coulson was a good man, but Thor was suspicious of him. He was not nearly quite so trusting as he pretended to be, and he had learned that on Midgard, honor meant nothing. Midgardians took no man’s word, nor did they adhere to their own. He couldn’t give enough examples of the amount of times he had been forced to prove more than his word to the paranoid little creatures. And more than once, he had put his trust in an agent he thought to be honorable, only for a promise to be hollow as driftwood.

To the elder races, a true man’s word, especially a man who held himself to the warrior’s code was a grave enough promise that it was not made lightly. On Midgard, it was worth less than air.

He liked, but then did not especially like the man Phillip. He was as false as his name, as he had constantly explained that his father’s name was not Coul. (Even though that was not an especially good way to judge a man’s honesty in this realm. Steve’s father’s name was not Rogers, yet he was by far the most honorable, if not honest man Thor had met so far.)

“I am at your service, Son of Coul,” he said. “Speak.”

Coulson slid into the chair beside the áss. “As you may know, on Earth, criminals are brought to justice through a series of trials.”

Thor nodded. Jane’s young assistant, Darcy had spent much time trying to teach Thor the many, many, many governments that Midgard had cobbled together. He had a bare grasp of the political sciences, but he knew that most systems were based on equality and the rights of people (in theory, though in his short time on the chaotic planet he knew that in most places this was not true) and not the absolute monarchy that had ruled Asgard for millennia.

On Midgard, Odin Allfather would be regarded as a dictator.

But then, on Midgard, people elected their leaders based on shallow lies and factions as well. Giving total power to a creature as low and generally unwise as a human would be a way to guarantee misery, what with such...diversity. Midgard was bigger and less uniform than Asgard, and one uniform institution would not be able to cater to all the sheer complications these men incorporated into their society.

“Most of these criminals, when found guilty, are institutionalized or rehabilitated in state sanctioned penitentiaries,” Coulson continued, “Before, we did not have any of these facilities aimed specifically towards the...superhuman or mutant kind. One has just recently been established.”

“Why do you approach me specifically?” Thor questioned.

“Because you missed last week’s briefing.”

Thor had been with Jane and certainly was not about to apologize. When he pledged his services to S.H.I.E.L.D, he pledged his strength, not hours of his time to listen to petty, power-hungry men argue.

“Anyway, this weekend, a squadron of what S.H.I.E.L.D. has deemed the most dangerous criminals will be moved into this new penitentiary. To do this, the council fears that normal guards will not suffice, and so S.H.I.E.L.D. has commissioned the services of the most successful superhero squads, as well as their own metahuman militia. As the _most_ effective squadron, this includes the Avengers. I’m here to make you aware of this.”

Thor nodded and gave a steady eye to the diminutive agent. “Thank you for telling me, Son of Coul.”

Coulson lingered for a minute more, before nodding and making his way away from the front of the plane. Thor was left once more with his own thoughts. He feared greatly on Midgard, more than he ever had on Asgard. On Earth, he was out of his element, where everyone was distrustful and angry and no one had the time for anyone else.   

He felt on his own, and isolated.

He felt as if no one was on his side.

Especially when he was in New York, one of the many, many metropolis’s that Midgard housed.

The Avengers were not especially kind, but neither were they cruel. They were so generous, that Thor felt as if he were a duty to them, and not a true friend, though they were mighty, good people. In them, he saw all that he admired so much about his home, and so much that he did not understand or abhorred about the land he now lived in.

His blood rushed with turbulence as the plane landed smoothly on top of one of the tallest buildings in the city--Stark Tower, the place he considered his temporary home while Jane was in Norway investigating  and accompanying a squad of archaeologists to former Bifrost sites. On Midgard, his home was with his love.

He could hear the protocols being recited over the radio in the corner in the plane, though Thor knew the instructions so well he hardly listened. When he stepped out of the plane, his ears popped as he expected, and he was good enough at ignoring it that he simply went on his way.

Stark was arguing with Steve ( _Just Steve. Please._ ) about something or the other--probably their upcoming mission and Steve was looking doubtfully at the shorter man, which was strange because Rogers rarely looked quite so doubtful.

Then again, as Hawkeye put it, Tony was prone to ‘talking a lot of shit’. He was probably talking shit now. Either that, or he _strongly_ disagreed with Stark’s decisions, and Steve’s effect on Tony was reminiscent of Frigga’s disappointed eyes on Loki. Anger was more prevalent than shame, though they would both eventually cave.

Loki had been on his mind an awful lot since he began involving himself in detaining. On Asgard, the only proper way to deal with a villain or foe wa to properly vanquish them to the one place they could not possibly return from—death.

Midgardians—humans—preferred detainment and rehabilitation.

When he spoke against the the first time he had been kept from striking the final blow, the honorable Captain had blown up in his face.

_Some men are evil, yes,_  he had shouted angrily, _but it’s our job to just try to be better. Threatening to murder in the name of honor or justice or whatever else you fight to defend just makes it not worth fighting for. It would be easy to kill a bad man and be done with it, but it’ a much more powerful message to take a bad man and show him the right way. Some people deserve to die; I'm not that naive, but most don't._

__

Thor had been resistant for a long while; S.H.I.E.L.D. had ended up taking him off the frontlines for a little bit to do the grunt work until he could prove himself willing to keep to two conditions—

1\. His blows had to be non-lethal unless given explicit orders; intelligence was everything to an institution like S.H.I.E.L.D.

2. _Be aware of civilians casualties._

Those conditions had meant nothing to the prince of Asgard, especially not in the heat of battle, especially not when the enemy was hardly conscious of surroundings. Unless it was those days that Darcy kidnapped him and took him around town and he saw how densely populated the small areas were, he forgot that in every building he smashed; there might be people trapped in the invasion bunkers, every lightening strike might destroy someone’s communications, and that the middle of an avenue was no place for a beserk rage.

The ‘no-killing-pests’ rule didn’t really register with him until one sunny day in Pennsylvania, he and the Captain were called out for an anonymous tip from a passing agent.

_Thor and Captain America worked together frequently; the Captain was a good leader and just respectful enough not to grate on Thor’s ego when giving orders. Steve also had the strongest defense of the Avengers, whereas Thor had the strongest offensive capabilities._

__

_This particular mission  not necessarily being high risk, S.H.I.E.L.D. had only deployed Steve and Thor. Someone—it was unconfirmed at this point whether it was a mutant or some idiot messing with OsCorp sorcery—was blowing things up on a farmstead._

__

_Thor had snorted with amusement. Steve took it seriously, as he took all things seriously when it was a mission._

__

_The battle had been short lived. The felon wore a hoodie with a mask obscuring his face, and he was short and petite, and he was just fast and lucky enough to dodge the Captain’s shield. His hood was knocked off, and the Captain shouted a warning just as Thor was about to strike the finishing blow—_

__

_He looked like Loki._

__

_That was not necessarily true, though. His skin was dark and his hair was short and curly and brown and his face was fuller, and through his slightly ajar mouth, Thor could spot crooked teeth._

__

_But despite that, his eyes were pale—light brown, speckled through with green, like they could not decide what color to be, and his eyebrows were long, thin and cocked up in a question despite the terror in his eyes. His mouth was small, his lips thin, and his cheekbones were strong. His eyes sparkled with stifled intelligence._

__

_He was so young._

__

Suddenly, Thor wasn’t all that interested killing villains. Everytime he saw a young protege, or even just a young man or woman in line with the darker aspects of metahumanity, he deeply hoped that whatever Phil spoke of—rehabilitation, worked out, because he didn’t have the spirit of humanity that told the pitiful creatures to keep going, on and on through their mayfly lives with determination despite all the abject misery.

* * *

The weekend came quickly for Thor; there were hardly any incidents, though Thor had learned long ago not to itch for battle on Midgard, the realm obliged tenfold.

The truck was moved to the new Center without any troubles. The prison was built on a small, remote island, so Thor’s detail was only to escort it to an airport in the state of Washington, in the kingdom (country? He could never really distinguish…) of the United States. From there, Iron Man and an ally and shield-brother of his, the War Machine (that was an ostentatious name if Thor had ever heard one, and his own title was ‘Mighty’) were to take them the rest of the way to the prison.

One of the men; and adolescent not much older than Loki was, had woken from his drug ridden stupor in the glass tubing they were kept afloat in. The alarms blared loudly on the containment. Agents that were actually trained healers (intimidating ones, with their heavy helmets and thick armour) flocked an soon obscured the man from all view. Beside him, Barton sighed, though his hand twitched on his bow.

“He will be taken care of?”  Thor asked, breaking the increasingly tense silence as the boy continued screaming from the torments inside his own head.

“Yeah. Hope so, at least. Poor kid got his mind fucked over by Mesmero. Turn out he was a mutant, with a slight talent for empathy, so whatever visions he’s been seeing, we’ve got a telepath? Therapy? A psychiatrist? Shit, I don’t actually know what they plan to do with him, but he’s been attacking small children with lethal intent non-stop.”

It seemed that the Norns were not content to let him forget the brother he had abandoned on Asgard.

And the fact that whatever he said, he still almost believed Loki whenever his younger brother spoke of monsters in his mind. If a Midgardian could do it to their own kind, who said that a higher being could not hurt a jotun?  

And Thor had been to see this healer called a ‘psychiatrist’, the Son of Coul had taken a painstakingly long time to explain what S.H.I.E.L.D. required, an exam called a ‘pysch eval’. He had thought it a little ridiculous at the time, but answered the woman’s questions frugally and without trouble.

The whole time, he thought of how the Warriors would never submit themselves to this invasive humiliation (the wounds on his pride were still fresh and bleeding) and of how Loki would jump at the opportunity (so he thought) to be listened to without interruption.

“Eye of the Hawk,” he began suddenly.

“Hawkeye,” Clint corrected, not moving his eyes from the scene. Thor rolled his eyes--a bad habit he had picked up from Steve—and nodded his head.

“Hawkeye, then,”  he resumed. “Tell me more of this ‘therapy’, this ‘psychiatrist’” He said, brow furrowed. “they are healers of the mind?”

“Personally, I don’t think anything of it; most shrinks are total quacks, sitting there, judging you, calling you crazy, and giving you meds to change you.” he snorted.

_It wouldn’t be much different from Asgard,_ Thor thought. He stroked Mjolnir thoughtfully. Perhaps...perhaps he would consult this all knowing entity known as ‘internet’. He had seen the Midgardians prevail over thousands of diseases they were subject to; perhaps they might know something that the healers had not about the hallucinations.

When he returned to the tower, he found he was not nearly savvy enough to easily utilize the flat tablet he had been given, and so he consulted the voice in the walls, Jarvis, per the Man of Iron’s recommendation. His unimpressed look made Thor almost uncertain of asking after this method of healing, but then, Thor was a prince and did whatever he wanted, regardless of the opinions of these lesser men.

The internet source Wikipedia declared it to be the _medical specialty devoted to the study, diagnosis, treatment, and prevention of mental disorders, among which are affective, behavioural, cognitive and perceptual abnormalities._

__

Thor was completely unashamed to admit that he had had to look up a few of the terms in the definition, but it seemed perfect; exactly what he had been looking for.

During one dinner, he had gone excitedly to the rest of the Avengers; most of whom knew he had a younger brother of sorts. They had often been surprised by his open-mindedness concerning a lot of things.

“Shield-friends,” he said solemnly, “I wish to know more of this thing that on Midgard is called ‘therapy’.”

The question took them all aback; even Hawkeye seemed surprised that Thor hadn’t dropped the issue.

“You know you can talk to any of us if you need to, right Thor?” Jane said, moving her hand atop his beneath the table. He smiled gratefully down at her, and she grinned back. It was a rare evening that they spent one together. The most infrequent guests at the tower were unsurprisingly the Captain, who had his own apartment, and Jane, who was not interested in being employed by S.H.I.E.L.D. The lack of interest was not reciprocated.

“It is not for me.” He licked his lips nervously. “It is for my brother, Loki.”

Tony cocked an eyebrow and took another bite. “You’re brother’s crazy? Are sure you don’t want to redefine that?”  he chuckled. “The whole lot of you are cray.”

Clint rolled his eyes; he was drinking more than he was eating. “Thor was asking about that when we were bringing those guys over to the helicarrier.”

“He sees things,” Thor interrupted suddenly, his face flushing. Of many topics he could speak, Loki’s madness was not one he spoke of willingly.

“What, like ghosts?”

Pepper whacked Tony in the arm. “What exactly are you looking for?”

“I have seen many adaptions that the Midgardians have made for inherent weaknesses,” and glares, he shouldn't have said that, “and my little brother is inflicted with a violent madness. He speaks of entities that are not there, and he has power, so he must often be restrained. Nothing has cured him, nor alleviated him of his symptoms. I have not seen him since I was alloted this small power for my banishment.”

“So what, you wanna bring him here to see a shrink?”

He frowned, the nickname ‘shrink’ made no sense, nor was it a respectable name for a mind-healer.

“A psychiatrist.”

“Yes I know,” he replied. He was used to people thinking he was dumber than he actually was. It had been used to his own advantage before, though he never understood when people were surprised when a prince of the nine realms was smart. The scholarly pursuit was no path for a prince, but then, neither was the path of ignorance and foolheartedness. The latter he had to learn the hard way.

Bruce shrugged. “That must mean that you’re that much closer to going home, huh?”

“What?”

“It seems to me you were banished for not knowing enough of the Realms...it looks like you’ve learned so much that you want to apply what you’ve learned to bettering someone else.”

Thor stared. He hadn’t thought about it like that at all. Bruce laughed under his breath. “It was a compliment.”

Pepper pulled them all on task again. “It sounds like your brother—Loki, you said it was?—Loki, is schizophrenic.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “There are other diseases that cause hallucinations, Pepper. Automatically assuming someone—”

Pepper shrugged and interrupted the other woman. “The point is, on Earth, we’ve identified hundreds of mental afflictions that can cause something like hallucinations, and I’d be delighted to help you.”

A warm feeling bloomed in Thor’s chest and he stood up and engulfed the tall woman in a hug. He had never thought of looking for an alternative since he had abandoned his brother; forced them apart. He almost hoped that Loki would reject his offer.

That would mean that he had grown independent and adjusted enough that he would not have been quite so alone for all the time that Thor had left him. The guilt would be free from his shoulders and Loki would be fixed, happy, and thriving.

* * *

So excited and caught up in the idea Thor was, he realized that he had not even thought out the first step. He had no way of contacting Asgard.

As far as banishment went, Thor’s was not nearly as awful as it could have been, on the account that he had managed not to murder any jotuns on his impromptu visit to the frozen realm. He had only Loki to thank for that; Sif had told him that the adopted prince had snitched on the party, and that Odin had been on their tail since before they even left the Bifröst.

There were solely three terms to his punishment—

1\. A prince no longer, he was expected to serve with honor and with dignity, per the requirements of an enchantment placed upon Mjolnir. Innocent blood was not to be spilled with the hammer.

2\. An áss no longer, he was expected to conform to whatever society he had thrust to, according to their rules, and their traditions. He was to have no contact with Asgard; he had no mother, no father, no shield-brothers or sisters.

3\. Per the original inquiry, it was his responsibility to locate whoever it was that had invaded the Weapons Vault on his coronation day.

It had taken him nearly an Earthen year to accept one and two; he had not even gained control of Mjolnir until eight month ago. Three, he was no closer to finding, being dumped on the most backwater realm of all of the nine.

When Pepper had found him a highly successful doctor, who was well known for her unorthodox methods. Which he took to really mean as a certified psychiatrist—who also happened to be a telepath.

Nothing like Charles Xavier; Thor had had the fortune? of meeting the famous mutant on a diplomatic meet. He was there to be more the muscle he supposed; the meeting was actually between Xavier and Fury, about a faction called the Brotherhood.

He had thought that Xavier was unnaturally intuitive, no one had thought to tell him that he was meeting with a telepath that could read his every thought.

At least the Professor was polite about it, though Thor’s thoughts were jumbled up and nearly incoherent to a human. He was a kind, if regretful man.

“Why don’t you just yell up at the sky to that Heim dude?” Tony gestured idly at the ceiling where music blared loudly when Thor approached him in his workshop.

“Heimdall? He will not answer my calls. I am—”

“Forbidden from the gates of Asgard, yadda yadda, I know. Even if you can’t get in, the dude must be a hellauva asshole to not pass on a message.”

Thor ran a hand through his hair. “I am not to speak to my mother, nor my father, nor my shield- brothers and sisters—”

The soldering gun shut off and Tony rubbed a callous burn, licking his lips in thought. “Is Loki a warrior?”

He started at the seemingly random question.. “What?”

“A ‘shield-brother’ is a warrior or something right?”

He thought about it. “Yes, that’ true. By law, he is not even my brother. He is just a ward of the crown of Asgard, Prince of Jotunheim. We are brothers only in spirit.”

“There you go, big guy.The terms don’t apply to him,congrats, you’ve got a friend.” Tony smirked at Thor’s dumbfounded expression. “Bet you never thought about it like that, didja, Point Break? Everything’s forward confrontation with you.”

He did not mention that it was difficult to even be thinking of loopholes when one had no hope. When he arrived, he had feared being alone for the rest of his life, dying a mortal nobody. A sunny smile broke through the stormclouds of misery and thought and he gathered up   
Tony in a fierce hug, ignoring the stink of sweat, oil, heat and old food.

“Thank you , Friend Tony, thank you.”

The quiet ‘anytime’ was strangled and lost to the din to the music and the muffling power of Thor’s chest.

* * *

Loki was dining with Frigga, as he spent most of his afternoons when boys went to train, when a knock echoed on the doors of his room. Frigga’s eyebrows rose in surprise; visits to her son’s room and quarters were incredibly rare, not since that one time that he had cursed three boys that had visited.

Most aesir were wary of the foundling.

It was clear he wasn’t going to say anything, and so Frigga called for the servant to go and open the door. The courtier, silent on his toes, went and opened the sitting room door. A young messenger girl, dark skinned and wild haired, bowed deeply.

“A message for my Prince,” she articulated smartly, “from Midgard it comes.”

Loki’s impassive expression shattered; his eyes widened and he itched to jump from his chair. He knew no one on Midgard, but he knew that was where Thor had been banished. Frigga winced. Per Odin’s orders, she had been forbidden to speak of the banished Crown Prince to Loki, because Odin might not have known the young jotun all that well, but he knew Loki well enough to know that he would find a loophole to the terms of Thor’s banishment.

Also, Loki knew what had attacked the Weapon’s Vault.

Frigga’s servant accepted the letter with a bow. “Thank you.”

Before Loki could take the letter, Frigga snatched the letter delicately. It was written on the thin paper and a mass produced envelopes. There was not a seal on the closing. Loki’s green eyed glare burned; she ignored him to the best of her ability. There was always something intensely unpleasant about Loki’s anger, something that made her feel like something not her ward was looking at her through glassy green eyes.

His gaze shifted from her to the letter, and he idly rubbed the cuffs on his wrists.

Despite all efforts, it seemed that Loki’s seithr still defied all bonds. They had changed once more, since Thor had been banished and he shattered the previous ones. The new ones were pale ugly, and heavy. They were of Jotunheim, and Loki’s eyes had been deader and his inhibitions non-existent and violent. He was confined no longer to the palace, but his chambers.

Two guards had been found missing, and Frigga had reason to suspect that Loki had been the one to kill them, though the bodies were only ever found in pieces. The only reason that Loki hadn’t been accused was because he would not be able to defend himself before the court, having no alibi, no friends, and a questionable amount of sanity.

He looked at her. Frigga knew he wouldn’t ask for his letter. It would most likely vanish from her post late in the night, replaced with a duplicate. Loki was powerful, and had much potential for skill, but as effective as his spells were, his imprisonment had not allowed him to perfect delicacy. not being taught to control all of his abilities had left him vulnerable. Any sorcerer could easily track his spells.

She opened it in front of him, careful not to tear the binding too badly. “I believe this is from Thor, Loki. Would you like to read it?”

Loki forced a small smile to his lips; it looked startlingly genuine. Since Thor had started questing, Loki had started lying, about every little thing. Maybe, she might have believed him, but she had caught him in the laboratories of the healers, making poisons. He knew she had caught him, and so what had once been an amiable relationship (somewhat) had devolved into a pissing contest of tension. It was why she was determined to dine with the boy once a day, so that he knew someone cared.  

He pretended, but the emotion was shallow.

“It is my letter Mother. The terms of his banishment forbid you from reading it anyway. Otherwise, no doubt you would have gotten a message every other day.”

“Certainly he would have spoken to you as well,” she interjected.

Loki’s smile in return was self-deprecating and just a little loathesome. She braced herself and passed him the letter. He hesitated only for a minute and then, unable to bury his eagerness, smiled—bright and white and crooked and tore open the correspondence.

Thor’s hasty and clumsy runes stared back at him, on a thin sheet of paper with lines.

_Brother,_

__

_It is strange on Midgard. They have many marvelous things, and despite their weakness they are formidable. The humans, as they prefer to identify, are clever and innovative, and have the oddest adaptations and most aweful foods that I have had the pleasure of tasting._

__

_I work now, like a common man, but ever am I a warrior, as you are ever a scholar. I do not know if Father has let you share the vision of the Hlidsjkalf, but the faction I lend my services too is a band of great warriors called “The Avengers.”_

__

_They are the Captain America, Eye of Hawk, Man of Iron, Beserker Hulk, Lady Natasha the Black Widow, and I. They are formidable and loyal, but also kind in their own ways._

__

_I have also met the most delightful woman, Lady Jane Foster and her assistant, Lady Darcy the Pragmatic. She is a little mad._

__

_Everyone here is just a little mad. I think you would love it here._

__

_Recently, I came across a thing they call psychiatry. It is a special brand of healers, they can heal the human mind. Maybe they can help you, banish the Thing in the Curtains and Ikol. I would be my deepest pleasure if you can come._

__

_I have missed you most of all, this I know, my brother._

__

_Anthony—he is the Man of Iron—pointed out that the terms of my banishment do not forbid me from you. I am sorry for not being clever enough to figure this out on my own, but then, maybe this is proof that I have need of you by my side._

__

_Brother, forgive me my ignorance. For now, all I can do is learn._

__

_Even if you choose not to come to Midgard, I will always welcome your correspondence._

__

_~~Crown Prince~~ Thor Odinson ~~of Asgard~~_

~~_God of Thunder_ ~~

__

Frigga knew not what Thor wrote, but by the end of the letter, Loki had clenched the poor piece of paper tight in his fists and tears leaked down his face, which was nearly blue in anger? Frustration? Frigga couldn’t identify each individual feeling, but she knew love and fear when she saw it.

Loki eyes flicked red, and his hand turned pale blue and ridged. The paper froze and shattered where he grasped it in his hand, and Frigga jumped at the rageful expression on his face. The curtain drew closed of their own will, the room swallowed by darkness and shadows. The serving girl shrieked in fear. The only thing that gave the premise of light in the room were Loki’s shiny green eyes, and even those were gone as he strode out of the sitting room to his own private chambers, where none but Thor and the ghosts of his mind had ever been given entry.

Frigga cleared her throat, the serving girl clung to the Queen’s skirts. “Lady Fulla, let us go.”

And so they went.

Loki was gone the next morning, not that they could enter the chamber to check. Not even the power of the gaze of the Hlidskjalf could pierce the darkness that shrouded the prince’s lone sanctuary. How he escaped his confinement was unknown to the  queen, as unknown as it was to Heimdall, Huginn and Muginn and any other watchers.

* * *

_Brother,_

__

_It would be rude to wish you well in your exile, wouldn’t it?_

__

_I feared that you had forgotten me, as I had not seen you even before you left for Jotunheim. You gave me no word, no warning, and if I had to say only one honest thing in my life it would be to say that I am beyond vexed with you. You are fortunate that you are Odin’s son, or else it would be your head on the the chopping block and I would never have been the wiser._

__

_Despite my being bound to my chambers, you should have known better than to think of the jotnar as the culprits. Brother, is my own sorry state not proof of their waste?_

__

_Midgard seems beautiful; I have always known it was a land of constant change and chaos. It has been many years since the Master Volva gave me leave to scry. I imagine everything has simply changed. I have not heard of this ‘psychiatry.’ ~~You must bring me~~_

__

_Be sure to set aside the correct text so that when I arrive, I may peruse them to see if this seithr will be adverse to the Powers._

__

_Neither Ikol nor the Thing are so easily dispersed._

__

_Loki_

* * *

_Brother,_

__

_A thousand words written on paper could never express my sorrow at having betrayed our brotherhood the way I had when I went to Jotunheim. ~~Sometimes I forget you are jotun, for all your intelligence when you are lucid.~~_

__

_I have spoken to Tony (the Man of Iron) and he had sent me to his wife (they call them ‘girlfriend and ‘boyfriend’ here, it is the most redundant phrase I have ever heard) Lady Pepper the Punctual. She is a most magnificent woman, if only because she is the only person in the mansion that has the ability to stop Tony once he is being irksome. He has told me that psychiatry is not actually magic, but then, I am not so stupid as to ask a man with quite so obvious a bias against what I want. Lady Pepper confirmed his claim._

__

_Does the Thing in the Curtain still haunt your dreams? Does Ikol still advise you? You must remember to be strong against the poison in your mind. Has Father allowed you travel once more in my absence? Who will be bringing you?_

__

_Should Father be looking to deposit you, I am living in a kingdom called the United States in the City of New York. It is a sprawling polis of tall towers. I live in the tallest, named for its master, Stark._

__

~~_Send my love to Mother, Father, Sif, and the Warriors. I miss them greatly._ ~~

~~__ ~~

_Thor_

* * *

_Brother,_

__

_I am a scholar nonetheless. I will survive, but I doubt this art of psychiatry greatly. I will—_

__

_Don’t be foolish. ~~Ikol will never leave me. I will always be haunted.~~_

__

_I don’t need Mother’s permission, nor do I seek Father’s. ~~I have not been in Asgard since your first letter.~~_

__

_I will be there. Please be ready._

_Loki_

* * *

It was a dark and stormy night.

Darcy rolled her eyes at the cliche; it was one of her rare nights that she was allowed to sleep in the tower rather than paying a chunk out of her meager paycheck from her increasingly dangerous internship for a motel. Hotels in New York were pricy; occasionally she’d crash in the same room or bed with Jane and split the rent.

Jane, however, lovestruck as she was by Thor’s abdominal muscles (not like she could see much higher) was wherever Thor was, and so instead of finding Mr. Stark or Dr. Banner or Steve (goddamn that boy was fine) to lead her around the monolith that was Avengers, nee Stark Tower, Darcy had given up and crashed on the couch that was on one of the lower level lobbies. Floors one to ten, which were all Stark Enterprises (except for one floor that was rented out to a Microsoft affiliate, but that was the first and only below ground floor besides the evacuation basements) were open to any worker with a key card and allowed visitors. The floors above that were protected by the whole slew of spy shit—keycards, passwords, fingerprints, eyescanners, or if you were Tony Stark and he actually gave two shits about who you were, J.A.R.V.I.S.

Darcy Lewis, broke, starving, and above all desperate college student extraordinaire mentally checked _none-of-the-motherfucking-above_ and rolled over on the couch.

On the second floor lobby, in the break area, where the only thing that somewhat counted as a bed was the cot that the paper-pushers sometimes crashed on.

On the second floor lobby, where Darcy was currently trying to sleep because she had gotten her ass locked out of the apartment.

On the second floor lobby, where she couldn’t sleep because Thor decided this was a beautiful time to summon up a huge fucking storm, as if the only appropriate time for huge-ass thunderstorms was in the middle of the fucking night, after “Lady Darcy the Pragmatic” had had a shit day.

Well,  _fuck_ Thor and his fancy ass hammer. And fuck her life, too, right in the butthole, without any lube.

She turned over and pouted. Her head pounded relentlessly, and her stomach gurgled uncomfortably. The empty office was eerie in the stormy darkness. Computer monitors made weird shadows at every turn, and though Stark’s ego made him give his personal workers more than the average Joe’s cubicle, clearly his underlings disagreed. The floor was just a layer of cubicles, and then the adjoining hallway led to a break room, where she currently was trying to sleep.

Exhaustion almost overtook her when a loud bang of thunder scared her so badly she fell off of the cot. Cursing loudly, she gathered up her blanket, and huffily sat on the edge of the cot, which overturned. It flung her pillow somewhere into the darkness of the lobby like room, visible only as a shadowy lump in the red emergency lights.

Blinking back tears of frustration, she stormed forward, cursing, heedless of the noise she made in the silence, over the storm.

Just as she bent to grab her pillow, she tensed. He eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Something wasn’t right.

Where the noise of the storm once sung, like a buzz of white noise in the background of her ears, there was only silence. It was still as dark as it was before the quiet, and rain still pelted the windows, and the emergency lights still hummed quietly, but it was like someone had stuck cotton in her ears. Even her own voice seemed muted.

“Who’s there?” she called out, because this was Avengers fucking Tower, and for all she knew, this could be some axe murderer out to kill Tony Stark or something, only this axe murderer was a total idiot who thought she was a guard or super-spy or whatever the the fuck the Black Widow was when all she was was a squishy college intern—

 

Fuck. She was totally unarmed. Maybe she could distract him with her boobs or something.

From nowhere (a shadow?) stepped a tall, thin silhouette, wearing a cape.

A fucking cape. Ergo, this was a super or a mutant or—Double-fuck! Maybe she could suffocate him with a pillow; it was definitely a man; it had to be.

She asked her question again. He didn’t reply to her, and she gnawed on her lip, holding her pillow in front of her chest.

“This is private property!” she called out again. Her voice was overwhelmingly loud in the quiet. “Now, I don’t know how you got in here, but I’ll be forced to call on security if you don't leave!”

“I came in through the cage,” he said, his voice startling her into nearly dropping her only weapon. “He told me it was called an elevator. He said I had to press the buttons, and this was the only one that worked. All the other floors were empty. Thor told me he’d wait for me here, in this New City of York.” Lightning flashed, temporarily illuminating the office. His face surprised her; young, gaunt, and pale. His eye bags had bags, and his eyes were wide and gleamed pale. He had the audacity to look unimpressed.

And yeah, so maybe Darcy might not have been the most stunning vision, all bedecked in her pajamas and curly hair tied up in a scarf clutching a dirty pillow, but this dude shows up in a cape, so yeah. No matter how hot Thor was, battle capes still seemed totally ridiculous.

“That doesn’t answer my question! I swear I’ll call security. All the lower levels are locked up, this isn't the main lobby, and the doors aren’t open this late at night. The whole building is closed!”

Goddamn it all what was the emergency code to activate emergency J.A.R.V.I.S.? Why was she such an idiot for not memorizing it when the scary Stark associate had told her it?  

“This is Stark Tower, yes?” he drawled, tone thoroughly unpleasant. “This is the fortress of the warrior band that call themselves the Avengers?” He did not wait for her to answer. “I sent a letter to Thor. I do not know if he received it, or if he bothered to tell anyone, but he invited me here.”

She groaned. she was definitely not in the mood to deal with any tourists. “Do you have any idea what time it is here?”

“I’m foreign, not stupid,” he replied bitterly. “It’s nighttime.”

“Yes, and you know that puny mortals like us or whatever need to sleep during this time, right?” she said slowly.

Even in the shadowy darkness, she could see his mouth twist in the red of the emergency lights. “No, I thought that all Midgardians were nocturnal creatures that woke in the night and prowled the realms looking for small children to eat in their freetime.”  

“Oh, look, you’re sarcastic too,” Darcy intoned flatly. Too tired to care that she was essentially leaving herself vulnerable to an unknown entity--an unknown alien entity on top of all that, she shuffled back to the overturned cot, pushed it upright, and threw herself onto the thin mesh and closed her eyes. If this guy knew Thor, Thor could deal with him. And bury her dead body while he was at it. She did not sign up for all this superhero shit. Darcy heard the stranger's footsteps in the quiet, nearly silent. If she was still able to hear the storm, then she would not have heard them at all.

“You sleep, my lady?” he said, lightly. “And Thor calls you Darcy the Pragmatic.”

“Yeah, well, this lady had a shit—how do you know my name?”

In the red light, the young man’s—no he really was more of a boy, if a tall and skinny one—smile looked sinister.   

“A little bird told me,” he said absently as he walked closer, sinking into an uncomfortable looking swivel chair. “But then, maybe I’ve always known.”

He was suddenly pensive. The silence seemed louder than it ever had been, but it didn’t look like he was about to kill her anytime soon, so she sat up, crossed her legs and looked curiously at the now quiet boy.

“Well, that’s not creepy at all,” she said. He didn’t turn at all, or acknowledge that she’d even spoken, but she continued like he had. “So we’ve established that I’m Darcy the Pragmatic, and you are…?”

He didn’t reply. She waited for a minute or so, and then sighed. “Okay then,” she said. At least it was quiet, and her head was not pounding quite so badly as it was before. “This’ll open up in the morning, so you’ve got three or four hours to bide your time, kay? Kay?  We all good?  Because you—” she pointed at him, “will keep this place quiet, I will sleep, and in the morning you can see Thor.”

He continued not to reply, and Darcy was beginning to feel just a little bit freaked out, considering how expressive and sarcastic he had been before. His eyes were so bright that even in the red darkness, they appeared pale blue. He wasn’t even looking at her.

And then, he blinked, and with a bright flash of light that nearly blinded her, vanished. The stench of electricity, along with the renewed roar of the storm were the only things left to keep Darcy company.

“Motherfucking aliens!” she cursed; the cot had overturned _again._ “I just wanted to sleep!”

A loud alarm blared in reply, along with J.A.R.V.I.S.’s cool voice calmly announcing, _Intruder_.  

She only sniffled. She couldn’t muster enough misery up from the depths of her soul to cry.

* * *

Thor was in bed, Loki’s yet unopened letter on the bedside dresser, Mjolnir securely at the  foot of his bed within arms range. He was sleeping, snoring softly, breaths shallow and mouth half-open, face slack. The storm raged on outside, furious. His brow tightened at a particularly loud crack of lightning, but he resisted turning over, instead curling his hands gently around the short handle of the powerful hammer. His long hair frizzed slightly as electricity ran up and down his arm.

When J.A.R.V.I.S flicked the lights into a bright, blinking red, he snorted and awakened immediately, tightening his fists. The cool voice echoed repeatedly in the night, _Intruder_.

It would not be the first time Avengers Tower was under attack, and so, he suited up--plain black armor issued by S.H.I.E.L.D and his ostentatious red cape. He might not have regained enough of his honor to wear the silver in his father’s name,. but the red was his own color, the color of his own crest. He wore red to show he had found himself again, despite Fury’s personal restraints with the color.

Once he reached the sitting room of his chambers, he was greeted by a drowsy faced, bright eyed Steve, who wore minimal armor (that is, he was in his clothes) and carried his shield. His normally neat combed blond hair was in disarray, sticking up in all directions.

“I haven’t gotten any alerts yet,” Steve said, setting a brisk pace that Thor easily kept up with. “Hawkeye’s not in the building, and I think Tony’s left for Guam earlier today. No word from Bruce either; but he might be in the upper labs. Right now, it’s just you and me.”

“Aye, Captain,” Thor agreed, hefting Mjolnir into an offensive position, slumbering forward on his toes, arms tense and ready to swing, electricity crackling as he pulled power from the raging storm outside. for most beings in existence, the middle of a storm was not good condition to fight in. But for the God of Thunder,at no other time did he feel quite so powerful.

“What’s the position of the intruder, Jarvis? Is it hostile?”

_The alarm had been sounded at Miss Lewis’s call of distress,_ the AI intoned easily. _The assailant vanished approximately three minutes ago._

Thor blinked in surprise. “Lady Darcy is here?”

Steve grimaced.”What’s Miss Lewis’s condition?”

_Miss Lewis appears unharmed,_ J.A.R.V.I.S. replied. _The assailant has been located in suite 180 4._

Thor looked up, just as Steve jerked in surprise, pulling his shield up closer and narrowing his eyes in suspicion. They moved closer together and stood nearly back to back.

They stood in the hallway between 1803 and 1804.

The sounds of the rain, greatly muffled where they stood was silenced completely as the hallways lights flickered on and off. Steve’s fist was steady behind his shield, and he gestured out a plan.

_Stay together,_ he mouthed. _Watch my back, I’ll watch yours._

Thor nodded as Steve’s free hand pulled out a pistol from his waistband. His shield would be purely defensive in such close quarters, making up for his general lack of armor. Thor was armored and had a close combat weapon, not that he was too wary about blowing out a few walls. When their enemy finally sought them out from the room, Thor would take the first offensive.

Steve watched 1803, and Thor watched 1804. Unluckily for whatever fool had the nerve and the skills to infiltrate the Avengers Tower, they phased out silently, like a ghost, from 1804. Thor never had patience for subterfuge, and swung his hammer fast and hard into where the Ghostman’s head had been.

Mjolnir swung through air, and the duplicate vanished in a puff of green smoke and the stench of frost and electricity. He growled  and kicked down the door, the lights flicking on before he could even shout the order; J.A.R.V.I.S. was quick in that way.

He just barely ducked a fast object that whizzed by his face like a bullet; it pinged off of Steve’s shield behind him, and Thor did not have the time to determine if it was a knife or something more dangerous before he was suddenly rushed in his own parlour.

The Ghostman wore a hood that wrapped tight around his face, a dark, dark green cloak that tangled in Thor’s arms as twig like limbs whipped past his face as Thor ducked every blow. the blows were weak, but they came fast and furious, completely relentless and did not give Thor enough time to retaliate.

Growling, he took a hit—a knife in the ribs, he hadn’t even noticed a knife, he was mortal, curses—and threw his arms around the thin neck, flinging back the hood.

The vacant eyes staring back at him were familiar, and he choked back surprise, even as his arms were flung back with strength disproportionate to the figure that stood half a head shorter than him. A cruel smirk that was nothing of Loki and all _other_ crept across those thin lips as another blade formed between his fingers.

“Duck!”

Thor was so used to the order he did it automatically, even as the Captain’s shield struck Loki in the head and the the younger boy shrieked out, lucidity suddenly flooding, eyes brightening even without the shadows of the cowl of the the cloak.

Tears welled unbidden in Loki’s eyes, blood running into his eyebrows, and he snarled, bright green magic blooming in his fists. Once, Thor might have been able to restrain his foster brother, but his mortal strength was worth nothing here.

“Loki!” Thor roared, hefting Mjolnir despite the intense pain in his ribs at the movement. “Stop this! I am not your enemy brother!”

He charged through what he was certain was a solid version of his brother, falling through the now watery duplicate and smashing the delicate coffee beneath his weight and force. The Captain spun around gracefully to block an attack from what was now a polished looking dirk. Gold filigree glittered on the handle, and Thor mentally whacked himself.

Laevateinn, wicked blade of murder that it was, wielded by his hysteric little brother once more.

Thor pushed himself up, dizzy. His vision swam and agony pierced his lungs with every heaving breath he took. Steve’s powerful defense was more suited to match Loki’s tricky offensive, whether the younger boy held a spear or thrust forward with a seax.

Loki was wheezing with panic; Thor  could not hear the words he muttered under his breath, but his wide pupils and reddened eyes and bluish fingertips betrayed his fear. His arms began shaking. His fear was obvious on his face, even as he held a weapon dripping with the Captain’s blood.

“Listen here, son,” the Captain said, slowly, gently, cornflower blue eyes wide and sympathetic but hard and unyielding at the same time, “I’m going to need you to drop the knife. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will not hesitate to incapacitate and restrain you, should need be.”

“Oh, I haven’t seen this guise yet,” Loki laughed, high pitched and shrill. “A little sweeter than usual, hmm? I didn’t think you were that creative.”

“Brother, this is no time for your fantasies! Forget this madness!” Thor roared, tackling the suddenly insubstantial body once more.

“Wasn’t it a Midgardian who said that trying the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result is madness?” Loki questioned flippantly. “It appears that I am not the only mad one, brother.”

The word was sneered with such malice that it almost felt like it physically hurt. Thor shamelessly winced before reverting to a far more familiar emotion: anger. Part of him knew he was partially to blame, for ignoring Loki, for storming off to Jotunheim instead of keeping a level head and consulting Loki when he so obviously knew something about the botched coronation.

“Didn’t you read my letter, brother?” he wheezed through the pain in his lungs, “We’re all mad here...just a little.”

“Not as mad as me, everyone in Asgard says so,” he shot back, scowling. His eyes were sunken and wide. Thor inched forward, Mjolnir hung loosely in his hands. Steve shuffled forward, while all of Loki’s attention was focused on Thor.

_I have to keep him talking,_ he grimaced. Despite being cooped up away from people for so long, Loki had a knack for reading people’s faces, and Thor’s especially. Any apprehension or suspicion of any sort would be spotted immediately.

“They also say that the Jotnar are beasts and that I’m perfect,” Thor replied slowly.

Loki narrowed his eyes, Laevateinn lengthening to a rapier that he brought up to chest level, keeping Thor and arms length away. “Aren’t they? Are you?”

“You  know the answers to those questions yourself.”

“Yes but you always know better, don’t you, brother? You knew well enough to leave me alone or all those years on end, you knew enough to become king and storm Jotunheim looking for answers from clueless monsters. You know enough to work as a high functioning idiot!”

Thor let Loki rant a little longer. He seemed more lucid than he had earlier, as long as he stayed angry at Thor and not the ghosts in his mind. The Captain remained in his peripheral, and he twitched his hand on his hammer. Loki was angry enough that he didn’t the subtle movement, but the keen Captain caught the motion and nodded.

_Go all out._

The captain’s flashy shield smashed into the back of the young prince’s head with a sickening crack, and Thor pinned him with Mjolnir to make sure that the wayward prince stayed put. It was a quiet few seconds. Loki was assuredly unconscious, a stream of blood running down his forehead from where the Captain’s shield had struck him. Thor put his hand gently over Loki's mouth; he still breathed, however gently.

A crack of thunder made him Thor and Steve jump, and the  Captain sighed and ran his hands through his hair, making it stick up in every direction.

“You want to explain who this is?” Steve said tiredly.

Thor only laughed sheepishly, sitting back on his heels as he picked up the glimmering seax.

 **  
** “This...this is my brother Loki.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would it be too much to ask for comments? Tell me what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ai, how long has it been? Too long, my friends, far too long. I can happily say that I am off hiatus, if any of you guys have read my profile lol. This will be updated more regularly with shorter chapters. I can't make promises because life and inspiration and also my own novel, but definitely at least every two months. I'm posting another norsekink fill and archiving another up here if anyone is interested.

Thor clenched the letter in his hand forlornly, staring at the shaky and blotchy ink-stained words. Loki’s normally perfect handwriting was bleeding through the pages at some points, from the the edge of the pen being pressed too hard against the paper. The letter ended abruptly, the omitted words scratched out haphazardly enough that Thor could still with the warning at the end being perfectly written once more, in script.

Thor had sent the first letter weeks ago; how had he only just received word of Loki’s leaving? What if he had actually gone missing? Would no one in Asgard come to tell him that his only sibling was gone? Was anyone even searching?

He breathed out  and forced down his doubt, shifting in the uncomfortable chair he had pulled from one of the offices while he watched Loki in the containment area he and Steve had agreed on. The young boy was still knocked out, but the sluggish stream of blood had been wiped tenderly away by Thor and wrapped neatly by Steve, who was far better at first aid than the prince was.

Loki was contained only by a pair of chains strapped around his shoulders and then tied to the floor rings, since his wrists were still bound by magic restricting cuffs— new ones this time, but they were fractured and breaking. His head lay awkwardly on his chest, since he was prostrated on his knees, and his back slumped precariously so that most of his weight sat on his heels. The chains were tied in a way that he could not stand, being lashed to the floor, and he could not move his hands. His normally bright eyes were half open, like a dreaming sleeper, and his jaw was slack, held closed by its position on his chest.

This was the cage the Man of Iron had secured for the Hulk, complete with restraining straps to tie down the uncontrollable berserker.

The Captain had gone to alert the other Avengers, and only the other Avengers. Thor didn’t trust S.H.I.E.L.D. enough to let them know about Loki; they were always far too interested in weaponry of any sort. They were nothing but foolish bureaucracy, always meddling in things they really didn’t understand, and putting everyone at risk for it. At least, that was what the Captain believed, though he was tactful enough not to let S.H.I.E.L.D. know.  Thor let them know it; his allegiance to them was entirely conditional.

Steve, though, was a soldier, but he was a damn good one because he had a mind of his own. Once he made up his mind on something, he stuck strictly to it, and nothing would convince him otherwise.

Steve did not have a very good opinion on Loki, at least not once he went down to the floor Darcy had been accidentally stranded on and found the poor girl stressed out and furious. Not even his affable demeanor and kindly promises could appease her then.

Thor had refused to leave his brother, and so, Loki was locked up in the room where Tony conducted his experiments with Iron Man weaponry. Thor didn’t pretend to understand whatever magic Tony cooked up in his laboratories, but he knew the walls of the room had survived some truly magnificent explosions and even nearly stood up to the wrath of Mjolnir.

Tony had been insufferable for weeks after Thor had made the mistake of telling him exactly how impressive his initial fortifications were. As far as Thor knew, they had only improved as Tony had worked on them further. The scientist, as they called them on Midgard, was determined to build a room that was “Thor-proof, Hulk-proof, and Iron Man proof.” Thor didn’t question him, but instead let him go on with his experiments. A busy Tony was a slightly less irritating one.

Nonetheless, Thor hoped that the walls of the room could withstand Loki’s special brand of insanity the way the walls of his chambers had for hundreds of years, not that Thor intended on keeping him imprisoned  in a single room. Thor had invited Loki to Midgard to explore and recover, not to willingly enter a new cage.

Well, Thor thought to himself grimly, he didn’t exactly enter this cage willingly.

The hairs on the back of Thor’s neck rose, and he looked up from his hands. Loki’s half open eyes were slightly more focused than previously,regaining an ounce of their brightness. Something darkened the green of his gaze. Thor swallowed nervously before stepping closer to where he was bound so mercilessly to the floor. Loki’s eyes followed him. He was awake.

“Brother?” he asked, concern dripping from his every word. “Can you hear me?”

Loki’s sharp jaw tightened imperceptibly, but obvious to Thor’s eyes, which were so familiar with his younger brother’s habits. He looked away from his older brother’s concern, as if he were rejecting any and all affection. It worried Thor. Whenever his brother had been lucid, he had always sought Thor’s attention.

Something had changed, and Thor did not know what. That unnerved him more than anything, because Loki had already been unpredictable. Now, he arrived, unbound and angry, and Thor did not know exactly what he had set him on his allies. He already could hardly contain Loki when he was in his chambers and bound; he did not want to think about how he would fare, diminished as he was. In his letters, Thor had been careful never to mention that his power was taken from him as part of his banishment; it was not a common stipulation in punishments. He hoped that Loki did not know he was mortal.

Loki had trusted him more than anyone else when they had lived in Asgard. Thor knew exactly how much he disdained authority, how much he lusted for power and control over his own life. That was why Thor had left. He had thought that without him there, Loki would find someone else to fall back on, and that someone would preferably be Loki himself. Obviously, the kind of people Thor liked was not the same kind of people Loki admired.

Then again, watching his prostrate brother, Thor realized he could think of a single person Loki admired. Once upon a time, before the things in the curtain and the figments of his own imagination really had a strong hold on his perception of reality, Loki had admired the seidrmathers of long ago, and taken a slight interest in learning of his people. But as time went on, and Loki became more wicked and isolated, he’d been alone but for Thor. And Thor knew Loki loved him (perhaps he was the only person Loki loved, as Sif had thought) but sometimes, he had doubted even that.

“Oh, Loki,” he sighed, very quiet for once, “What have you done this time?”

Loki was many things, but he was not fearful of Odin’s wrath. And indeed, Thor had never thought Loki needed the might of the Allfather to keep him in line. Warriors were strong of spirit and just as bullheaded, but Loki had always been a malleable sort. He was easily dissuaded or calmed and easily frightened; a gentle sort, really.  Intelligent and sharp minded, and arrogant, certainly, but who would not be, when they had the so yearned for attention of the sole heir to the Nine Realms? One could not be in Thor’s company and lack self-esteem.

The last Thor had seen him, he was much the same he had been. A little older, a little harder and disillusioned, but still the same, gentle, cunning Loki driven by his fear that he had been. Lady Darcy was very pragmatic, but Thor would be the last to label her brave or wise. Just as Loki was very smart, but Thor would be the last to label him as a threat, no matter what he had done in the throes of madness.

As Tyr, his war tutor, had once advised him, there was nothing to fear from a aimless foe. Even Midgardians understood this— Agent Coulson feared no man without conviction.

Loki had grown long and thin, only half a head shorter than Thor himself from when had last seen him.  The darkness that had always lingered around him threatened to swallow him alive, but in the bright green of his strangely dull, hunted eyes, Thor was accustomed to it, to the shadow of the Thing and Loki’s crutch Ikol. But if one was unfamiliar with Loki’s disposition, Thor could understand their discomfort, though he was not terribly impressed if they were frightened of a half-grown young man. The warriors in Asgard had feared the unknown the way that Midgardians did not. And now, the glaring deterioration of Loki’s condition without Thor’s tender care was obvious.

When awake, the boy could easily pretend to be hale. Slumped over, and chained, it was not possible to ignore the thinness in his wrists, the pale blue veins creeping up his neck, the dark grey shadows under his eyes. He’d been raving, spitting mad, unashamed in his delusions, believing wholeheartedly in what he saw. And Thor began to wonder, if maybe pulling away had not been the best thing to do.

Not for the first time, he cursed his dullness. Being the crown prince meant he was no idiot, but he’d always taken things at face value. He never really sought loopholes in the law. If he disliked an order or a directive, he’d simply disobey it, without falsehood or games. His banishment made him realize he needed power to carry on as he’d always carried on before. People without worth, without honor had to live in a very different way than he used to. For, if the Bifröst was closed to him, how else could he connect to his family? That the other aesir did not consider Loki his family never occurred to him, because to him, Loki was his brother.

Midgard had taught him much about cleverness and trickery, as well as humility, and he began to understand more and more why his father banished him there.

The adrenaline had faded a long while ago. The pain in his chest was dull, though, compared to the pain he felt in his heart. He had rarely felt so vulnerable. And Loki looked so weak.

The opening door jolted him from the melancholy of his thoughts. Bruce stood hesitantly in the doorway, a large white plastic box marked with a red cross clutched firmly in his veined fist. His eyes were lined with tired bags, as they often were. His lips were quirked in an awkward smile. Thor mustered a half-grin back. He must have come when Steve called— he mustn’t have been too far if he was willing to journey back into the tower for anything other than research.

“Bruce,” he murmured in greeting. “Are you here to treat him?” he gestured towards his prone brother.

“Not exactly,” he said, stepping confidently into the room. “I think he’ll live. But you hardly received any medical attention, and if what Steve tells me is true, you got stabbed in the ribs.”

Thor winced as he was brutally reminded of his injury. “It is nothing,” he reassured, though Bruce was unconvinced and ignored him. The taller man did not resist Bruce’s experienced hands as he was stripped of his shirt and the hasty bandages that Steve had put on him.

“This is the little brother, huh?” Bruce asked offhandedly, his movement brusque and quick and not ungentle. “He’s a little bigger than I expected, at least from the stories you told.”

“It has been a long time since my brother and I have truly been close,” Thor admitted, his eyes slipping closed as he muffled his grunts of pain. Every time he was treated by the rustic Midgardian medicine, he was reminded of why he missed Asgard so much.

A trip to Loki was often faster than having to go to the healing halls and deal with their drudgery and hovering. It was the only type of magic Thor had ever really encouraged him to look into when Loki  insisted on properly learning magic, as with healing magic he couldn’t really hurt anyone, but his brother had never really shown any interest in the womanly pursuit.

“You haven’t been on Earth that long,” Bruce commented.

Thor sighed. “In truth...I have been pulling away from my brother even before I was banished. He was never this bad...this bitter. And his hands have not been clean of blood for a very long time. I am beginning to wonder if I have truly done the right thing, bringing him to Midgard.”

“...why?”

Why indeed, Thor thought, “He could not recognize Steve as anything but his enemy—the monster in his head. And he did not even recognize me. His letters...I could hardly tell that anything was wrong with his letters, until the last one. He is ridden with horrors, and no human mind healer can absolve him of them, I think. He is lost.”

“From only one encounter?” Bruce said drolly. “Oh, ye of little faith.”

Thor bristled. Bruce’s casual dismissal of his hopelessness hurt him in a way he didn’t expect. Who was Bruce Banner, Beserker of Midgard to  tell him how to deal with his only brother? Thor knew Loki better than anyone did...he knew his brother, and he could see that he was worse than before. He cursed himself once more for his foolishness. If only he hadn’t let go, if only he hadn’t denied Loki his comfort for so long…Sif had said it made Loki weak, but if Thor had been there, there wouldn’t have been any need for Loki to be strong.

“I can see it, Bruce, my shield-brother,” he murmured. “Things have not gotten better. They have gotten worse.”

“Well, then, I guess that means that they can only ever get better from here, hmm?” he laughed uncomfortably. “I’m not even supposed to be the positive one, Thor. Where’s that can do attitude?”  

“I have always been...uncertain when it comes to my brother,” Thor sighed. “I have never truly done wrong by him, but…”

Thor didn’t know what to say. How did he describe how he felt? What words could he use to emulate the feelings that were destroying the tentative peace he had achieved on Midgard? Suddenly, he longed for the regret he’d felt before Tony had ever shown him the loophole in his punishment. Were it anyone but Loki, maybe he could have...well, he didn’t know, but his ideas had only resulted in his brother chained, like some common criminal. Granted, Loki was a criminal...but his crimes had not necessarily been his fault. From what Thor had seen, Midgardians— humans—  did not always believe in incarceration. Certainly not for the incurably ill, from  what he’d seen.

“Thor,” Bruce’s voice, calm and uneven, underlaid with exhaustion, “It’s not your fault. You need to stop thinking it’s your fault. Sometimes, when people are sick, we have to take responsibility for them, to keep them from hurting themselves. It’s not always the nicest looking thing. But know that it’s for their own good.”

“He doesn’t believe that,” Thor said immediately.

When they were younger, Loki had often confided his own suspicions about their mother and father— never mind that Odin and Frigga had taken them in as their own son, given him lavish rooms and the best education any young aesir boy could want, and any girl for that matter. He’d cursed his pretty cage and disdained his watchdogs. That something he didn’t want was for his own good was a concept Loki had never understood. Anyone who helped him was suspicious, and anyone who acted against his wants was his enemy. Only Thor had ever been exempt from Loki’s scorn.

“Regardless of what he believes, it’ the truth,” Bruce said frankly. “We can’t have him running around the tower if he’s not in proper control of himself. This is probably the most dangerous place on Earth, where the most dangerous weapons, the newest technology, the most brilliant scientists are. There are civilians here during the day as well. Normal people working a nine to five. We can’t put them at risk. If he can’t understand that something is for his own good, he better understand that some things are for the benefit of others. And if he’s not used to it now, if he wants to stay on Earth, he’ll get used to it fast.”

A well of anger rose in Thor, and died just as quickly as it formed. Thor was a warrior, not a fool. And he knew Loki was dangerous. He’d seen his brother take down two trained einherjar while lost in his own mind. The Midgardians were right to fear him. Thor did not fear him himself; Loki had always been reluctant to hurt his brother, and could not best him besides.

Just as Thor opened his mouth to apologize, Bruce cut in, in his soft, brusque manner.

“Don’t say sorry. It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault. Some people just get sick, and you can’t do anything but help them when they’re at their worst.”

“It’s good then, that this is not Loki’s worst,” Thor said. Bruce cocked an eyebrow questioningly. Thor spoke freely of Asgard, but not often of his brother, and certainly never anything sad.

Though he spoke willingly then, his face seemed closed and quite hesitant. Bruce sighed. He supposed that Thor felt obligated to tell him something now.

“You don’t have to say anything more if you don’t want to,” he mumbled, finishing with Thor’s wounds. “You know, I’m a doctor, but not this kind of doctor. The next time you bang yourself up this bad you’re going to the hospital.”

Thor shuddered. He hated the hospital. Besides being the first place he was imprisoned when he landed on Earth, there was something awful and clinical about the place. The healers on Asgard had always been friendly, if overbearing, and people Thor knew. But Midgardian healers looked at him like he was a specimen, poked and prodded and cut and reminded him how weak this mortal form was.     

“I cannot promise that I shall not ‘bang myself up again’. However, I must beg of you, good doctor, please do not send me to your human healers!” he said cheerfully, though a sliver of unease crept into his voice despite the best of his efforts. Bruce smiled sympathetically.

“Yeah, I’m not really a big fan of hospitals either,” he sighed. “Not that I’ve really had a reason to go to one in these past few years.”  He gestured vaguely to himself; Thor knew he referred to his mighty and indomitable berserker rage: the Hulk. Thor wondered why he feared himself so; Thor had a rage himself, and it could not be conquered by fear, only by strength. Though Bruce Banner was a mousy, unassuming man, Thor was certain that within himself, he had the strength to master even the Incredible Hulk.

He didn’t say anything, but he smiled thankfully at Bruce once the last of the bandages were were wrapped.

“Ah,” he breathed in and out, and tested their stretch. “Good. Thank you, Friend Bruce.” As the scientist nodded and began to make his way out, Thor grabbed his elbow.

“Yes?”

“Friend Bruce...thank you.”

Bruce smiled awkwardly shuffled his feet, shouldering his bag more comfortably before looking Thor straight in the eye. “I meant what I said you know. If you love him, do something. But...if he’s really as bad as you think, then take responsibility. But no matter what you do, it’s not your fault.” He paused. “Unless it is.”

Unsure if he was joking or not, Thor laughed. “Nay, he has been ill a long time.”

“Pepper’ll help you,” he reassured with a small smile that failed to reach his eyes. “I’ll see you later then?”

Thor nodded regally, his eyes focused on Loki once more. He heard the door shut behind Bruce, and suddenly, he was alone again, but for his treacherous thoughts and a shackled Loki.

* * *

 

Thor returned to Loki’s cell the next morning. Contrary to his past visit, Loki was awake and lucid, though still bound. He took his incarceration gracefully, unlike how he had tolerated his time in Asgard. His eyes were wide open, and he was chained down so firmly that he could not easily move his head. He was offered two views: the clean, grey floors and his own reflection in the mirrored glass walls of the observation room.

Thor winced. Loki made a pitiable picture; no wonder he stared docilely at the floor. Thor would not be surprised if he longed for his gilded cage.

“Brother,” he said. The observation room was equipped with speakers, so he knew Loki could hear him. Even then, the jotnar were sharp of hearing, and he thought Loki especially so.   


Sure enough, Loki glanced up, moving only his pale eyes. His thin face was wan and white; paler than normal, and that was strange considering Loki had spent the better part of his life confined to rooms where he stubbornly kept the curtains drawn. Thor didn’t think an aesir could get any paler than Loki already was.

Then again, Loki was not aesir.

He cleared his throat. “Brother,” he said again, louder this time. “Loki!”

“I’m not deaf, brother,” Loki replied quietly, and Thor’s heart nearly broke with relief. Loki’s voice was smooth and even, if subdued, but then, when Thor was woken from his rage in chains he was subdued too.

“Are you well?” Thor asked, and immediately mentally berated himself as Loki leveled an unimpressed look at him.

“Oh, as well as one can be when he is woken in shackles,” he said lightly, false cheer brightening his voice. “Better plain, unadorned shackles than a gilded cage, I think.”

“This is but a temporary measure, brother,” Thor swore, though he knew he could not technically guarantee Loki’s freedom. “Do you remember what brought you here? Where you are?”

Loki scrunched his face up in disgust— there was the child Thor knew, beneath the veneer of the adolescent Loki had become. “I remember everything, and I remember it well. Do not worry. We are on Midgard. This is the Tower of Stark, is it not? This is where you told me to come find you, in your letter. I didn’t expect to be unwelcome.”

Thor rubbed the back of his neck abashedly. “It was no fault of your own that you were not properly greeted and brought before my shield-brothers. I had only just received your letter.”

Loki ducked his chin into his chest and his arms violently twitched where they were bound, the harsh jangling of the shiny alloy Stark favored loud in the quiet. He jerked as if he would have liked to bring his arms around to cradle himself.

“I did not tarry.”

“No.” Some prior warning would have been appreciated, Thor thought tiredly, though he feared to chastise Loki for something so slight when the boy was forthcoming now.

They stood together, separated by gleaming glass and crackling speakers. It was quiet for a long while.  

“Will you send me back?” Loki asked suddenly, jolting Thor from his aimless thoughts.

“What?” he replied, “You have only just arrived. Do you not like Midgard?I thought you might want to stay...if not for the realm itself, than for me. I have missed you greatly.”

Loki shrugged, or tried to, as his movement was aborted by the binds. “I did not think it would follow me even here.”

Thor’s blood ran cold within his veins. “The Thing in the Curtains? Loki, he only exists within the confines of your mind. You bring him with you wherever you go! You are the one who gives him power, brother,” Loki opened his mouth to reply, face red with embarrassment or anger, Thor wasn’t sure which, so he plowed on, “If you turn your face away from what evil the Thing would have you do, it will end!”

“You don’t under _stand_ ,” Loki wrestled with his bonds, his eyes wide and wet in his face. “I can’t! I would rather die than let him have his way with me. With you.”

“He doesn’t exist, brother,” Thor pleaded. “He can only hurt you right now. And then you hurt other people, and I’m forced to do this!”

Loki pressed his thin lips tight, piqued. He deliberately averted his eyes, and spoke to the floor, almost too quiet for Thor to hear. “Have I exchanged one prison for another? You told me you would help me. You swore this ‘psychiatry’ would  banish the Thing back to the ethers where he belongs. This you swore. If I wanted men to call me mad, I would have stayed on Asgard.”

“I cannot free you if you will hurt my brothers-in-arms and the innocent, Loki.”

“Am I not your brother?” Loki asked, voice deceptively light. “Am I not innocent? I will only ever raise my hand against the Thing and his madness. What does attacking your little mortal pets do for me? Nothing, Thor.”

Thor could still see the dead warrior’s in his mind’s eye, slaughtered mercilessly by his brother lost in visions. Loki, almost frail-looking in his ill-fitting tunic, glassy-eyed and face flecked with blood.

“You swear to raise your blade and shed blood--innocent blood the last I remember, and I remember it well!--  for a fantasy!” Thor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to alleviate the mounting pressure building there; a mortal annoyance he’d never have suffered in his aesir body. “You are already a threat to every man and woman living and working this building.”

“Why don’t you trust me?” Loki snarled, “Why do you think I’m lying? I’ve never lied to you!”

Because, Thor thought sadly, at times you amaze me, but you frighten me in equal measure. You are the one mistake I cannot seem to fix.

Instead, Thor sighed. “I will speak to the Captain. We will have you free before the end of the day.”

* * *

 

“He needs to be evaluated first,” the Captain was adamant. Thor thought it was strange, because normally the Captain was not so stringent on protocol. But it seemed Loki’s raving had disturbed even him.

“He is harmless now,” Thor argued. “And I will be with him at all times, with Mjolnir. You need not worry.”

Steve’s lips twisted in thought, considering Thor. Thor had approached him in his own room; perhaps in they were in the observation room and the Captain was free to see how pathetic Loki was in chains.

“We’re not going to lock yourbrother up like a criminal, Thor,” he sighed.. “But what he could have done to Miss Lewis…”

“He was within his own mind,” Thor argued. “She is unharmed. He will not leave my side, and I will restrain him.”

Steve’s pale eyes looked Thor up and down, considering. “You’re not exactly at your best, Thor. Can you restrain him?”

“He will listen to me. He is my little brother,” Thor was adamant. “Besides, he is still restrained from his time on Asgard. He cannot hurt me.” Though the cracks in the cuff were worrying. The only thing that could negate those chain would be dark energy, and something like that was found only on Asgard. Loki should not have had the strength to muster any on his own.

A wry smile tugged at the Captain’s lips— not happy, but resigned. “I guess I’m not going to make you change your mind, am I?”

“No, my friend,” Thor grinned unabashedly. “You shall not.”

“Well, then, what are we waiting for?”

With a heave of body and heavy sigh, the Captain took the lead to Loki’s makeshift cell. They were there all too soon, and Loki kneeled there as stiffly as before, his eyes roaming what little area he could take in slowly.

“Brother,” Thor called through the glass when the Captain turned on the speaker, “You are free.”

“Obviously,” Loki replied, “These chains are just for sure. I’m not chained to the floor of a basement at all.”

Keying in the release code, Steve rolled his eyes. “You know, they say that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.”

Thor entered the room just as the chains withdrew completely into the floor. Loki nearly fell over, whole body numb, though with Thor’s help, he braced himself and drew himself to his feet.

“Indulge me, I’m not exactly at my best...I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name?” Loki said, glaring at the one-way observation mirror.  

The mirror lifted, exposing the plexiglass beneath. There, the captain stood in all his t-shirt and jeaned glory, arms crossed as he considered Loki’s wide, clever eyes and moon-colored face deeply.

“That’s because I never introduced myself,” Steve said, voice affable, if not friendly. “Steve Rogers.”

“Ah,” Loki nodded, “Yes. The Captain America...the man out of time. Thor has told me about you.”

“Man out of time, hmm?” Steve shrugged as the door to the cell slid open. “Sounds about right.”

Thor looked at Loki sharply, even as he stepped away and shuffled towards the exit. He had not told Loki anything about Steve’s sacrifice and time within the ice, and never described him as such. Loki himself had admitted to not being allowed to scry while in Asgard— so how had he known anything about the Avengers?

Not wanting to incite Steve’s suspicion again, Thor let it be for the moment. “Come brother,” he  said, voice bright. “You shall be staying with me, in my rooms. There are however, some things you must respect while you are on Midgard.”

“Things?” Loki asked, eyes wandering the utilitarian hallway and clear glass observation room. “Oh yes, _things._ You mean _rules._ Everything in the Nine is just strangled in them...when it comes to me at least.”

“Rules maintain order,” Thor resisted pinching his nose to relieve the headache he could sense growing already. “And besides,” he added, thinking of Bruce, “They are for your own good.”

Wandering by the captain, who watched them wordlessly, Loki stared curiously at the control panel and its transparent light keys. “I don’t particularly care about that,” he said lightly.

Thor persevered as if he had not heard a thing. It was a well-practiced habit between the two of them. “You are to be with me, or someone I deem trustworthy, at all times. You are not to venture onto certain floors of this Tower. You will surrender all weapons you have on your person to me. Tomorrow, you will meet the others.”

“I will, will I?” Loki sounded mildly surprised. “You’re not ashamed to introduce your friends to the crazy little foundling this time around are you?”

“I have never been ashamed of you, brother,” Thor said sincerely, grasping Loki’s shoulder firmly, forcing the younger boy to look up at him, in the eye. “I never will be.”

Loki’s lips pulled up in an unbidden half-smile. “We’ll see.”

“Why don’t you show Loki your room,” Steve cut into the tene awkwardness smooth as a knife through butter. “And we’ll all make decisions about what’s going to happen later tonight when Tony gets back from whatever he’s doing.”

Thor nodded firmly, his hand heavy on Loki’s shoulder, guiding him into the elevator.   

**Loki, however craned his neck, his pale eyes firmly fixed on the now-empty cell, a troubled expression on his face.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this! I'm honestly really sorry for the super long break.Is it too much to ask for a comment?


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shit. Ugh it fought me every single word and it's a week late and I;ve rewritten it like three fucking times I hate it. T_T On the bright side, Loki POV which is always nice.

Thor left the room shortly after dropping off Loki, with some stern warning Loki didn’t really hear. The moment he saw the suite, his heart sunk to the pit of his stomach. This was to be no different than his stay on Asgard, if he allowed it. 

Thor’s mortal rooms were expansive and thickly carpeted, much like his room on Asgard had been the last Loki saw them, when he was weak and much younger, before Ikol taught him to fight off the Thing. The sitting room was well lived in, with chipped mugs and shiny plateware lying about on the table and the counters of the small cooking space off to the side. A plush seat that looked as if it had been built with Volstagg in mind dominated the south wall. There were many doors; Loki opened each one and searched through them thoroughly, with only one thing in mind. 

Once Thor and the Captain had unchained him from the Midgardian restraints, Thor had been quick to demand back Laevateinn. Loki had complied— Thor had unknowingly left him his other, inferior knives and the cuffs the Lady Frigga had the dwarves craft to restrain his magic were quickly becoming useless in the face of his burgeoning strength. Still, he felt strangely naked without the gift his brother had once refused.

He felt even more so exposed knowing that at last, he was on Midgard. 

Loki could have vanished anywhere in the Nine Realms— the dark paths were infinite, and every time he traveled them the yoke of the aesir loosened— but Thor had invited him here, of all places. 

Here, the home of the Thing and all of his infinite nightmares. 

Midgard was the largest Realm, the center of infinite universes, the heart of the seedling existence that had become the Yrggdrasil, and it was in Midgard in its ever expanding corners that the Thing was banished. Furthest from Asgard, Odin’s only concern, but this was not true for many, many worlds. Worlds that had already been given as tribute to the Thing’s insanity. 

Loki never understood the aesir, and he was now completely sure he never ever wanted to. He’d only ever helped himself— even in the future this was evident, or else Ikol would never have come to taught to him to fight off the parasitic entity that was the Thing and Loki and all that he was would have long since been devoured. 

But even Ikol loved Thor (even if he hated him in equal measure, which Loki could almost understand) and so, though he could’ve gone anywhere, Loki went to Thor.

Thor swore the Midgardians had devised a new sort of seithr that would kill the Thing in his mind, once and for all. Thor had never once lied to him.

Besides, Loki thought, yanking open a drawer that held a series of well kept steel knives, he’d felt Thor’s weakness when his brother had grabbed him. If Thor dared stand in his way, Loki knew he could eliminate him as easily as he could eradicate any mortal.

Drawing one butcher knife, he glanced at his sallow reflection in the stainless steel. 

After all, he thought, killing the aesir that had tried to stop him the first time had been easy enough 

“Do you really think you have the strength to kill the Mighty Thor?” his own voice didn’t startle him anymore, and when he looked up, there was Ikol, in the form of a glistening black magpie with sooty feathers and beady black eyes. 

Ikol wasn’t like the Thing. He didn’t like to talk to Loki unless Loki was alone. 

“He is not so mighty now,” Loki replied. “He is mortal now; I could feel it when he touched me.”

“It frightens you doesn’t it?” Ikol sneered, his voice deceptively smooth, the gleam in his eye unhinged. 

“Of course not,” he lied, his lie imperceptible from any truth he ever told. “But now I begin to doubt whether this psychiatry is worth learning. I thought that Odin would’ve released his favored son from punishment by now. I am...surprised.”

“Stupid child,” the bird hawed, “That’s what concerned you?”

He looked down again, but Ikol gave him no reprieve, jumping down from his perch and digging his small claws painfully into Loki’s pale neck, sticking his bright beak and dangerously intelligent eyes in his face. 

“Do you not understand what’s at risk here? Why I’ve taught you what I have? Why I’ve told you what I know. ‘The Thing,’” it mocked cruelly, “is death, darkness, cold and despair. If you don’t do what I say, it’ll kill you, and therefore, me. It will kill the Loki-that-was and all-that-Loki-will-be.”

Loki didn’t respond. He knew that without Ikol, he would’ve been lost an age ago, but he also knew that Ikol’s word was not trustworthy. The Loki-that-was had fallen before the Thing before. Who was he to advise him?

AS if privy to his thoughts— which of course the damned bird was, because Loki’s mind had never been his own— Ikol pecked angrily at Loki’s eyes, drawing blood from the fragile skin there and from his neck. It was a familiar pain, a good pain, one that had centered him and driven off the torture he could find in his own head. 

“Do not forget why we are here, child,” Ikol hissed, before the sensation of his presence abruptly vanished from Loki’s perception. 

Loki opened his eyes, not realizing he had closed them. In his fist, the butcher knife was misshapen by his clenched palm. Gingerly placing the destroyed knife on the counter, he touched unscathed eyes with trembling fingertips. 

Staring at his clean, unsoiled hands, he wondered, though Ikol was no longer there, how could he forget?  
______________________________

Thor left Loki alone in his suite as soon as he heard that Tony had returned. 

Thor did not have the resources to connect with the rest of the Avengers, a task that was surely time-consuming; besides, it was Tony’s Lady Pepper that had first suggested the Midgardian sorcery. 

“Jarvis,” he asked the A.I. “I need to speak to your master. If you could direct me to him.”

“Master Stark is in the tertiary labs,” J.A.R.V.I.S.’s cool tones echoed in the elevator once Thor stepped into it; if not for his sensitivity to changes in height, he would not have felt it move, so smooth was the movement of the box. 

In a few seconds, the steel doors slid open to reveal the fishbowl-like labs of Tony Stark. Already the man was hard at work; Thor recognized the breastplate of his armor under the forge. 

“Friend Stark!” he greeted with joviality he didn’t truly feel, “I have news for you!”

Stark focused so intensely on his welding Thor thought for a second that the mortal was ignoring him (as he was wont) but just as Thor opened his mouth to call to him again, Tony spoke.

“What up, Point Break? If it’s about a the tower’s new guest, Jarv already filled me in on that,” Tony did not look up, and Thor forced himself not to feel offended. Tony Stark, much like Loki, was strange in his mannerisms and politesses. 

“Ah. Then, I must ask that you call Lady Pepper and Lady Widow, for it was them that suggested I bring Loki here to meet your psychiatrists.”

Tony shut off the flamethrower and set it aside with more delicateness than Thor thought he was capable of, but then, thought hads had built marvels such as J.A.R.V.I.S., so perhaps Thor should not underestimate his Midgardian allies. 

“See, I’ll get you the Widow,” Tony said with false brightness in his tone, “But not Pepper.”

“Why not?” he frowned. 

“Jarvis showed me the footage of your little brother,” he said, “and you know, maybe I should have predicted this but that kid is a threat. He’s an insane threat, and Pepper’s stronger than anyone I know, but she’s not a fighter. Your brother threatened to attack Ms. Lewis and did attack you and Thor, and he’s a lot stronger than you implied and I anticipated.”

Thor bristled defensively. “You will not speak of my brother so,” he growled.

“I can and I will,” Tony shot back. “Or do you think you could do anything against him, the way you are now? The way you claim to be?”

“Loki will heed me, and therefore my shield-brothers. He always has. The only danger he poses is to himself. That is why I brought him here.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” Tony said, his face like stone. His fierce countenance cracked though, as a wicked grin pulled at his lips, wide dark eyes gleaming with intelligence and forethought. “I’ve already called Natasha, and Pepper’s reaching out to various...specialist in the area that would be willing to work with us.”

“I see. I should never underestimate your foresight, then,” Thor brushed off the liar comment. Tony had never met Loki, didn’t understand exactly how much Loki needed Thor. Tony had not been there for all those years, and did not understand what exactly was at stake for his brother; Loki was crazy, not stupid. “When should I expect the Widow?”

“She said give her a week or so,” Tony shrugged, “so that means expect her in three days.”

_________________________________________________________________________________

Tony was close; Natasha arrived on the fifth day. He was still wrong though, so Thor relished in that for five minutes as he headed eagerly back to his room. 

Loki had avoided everyone in the tower; he was a wraithlike presence after he had first been introduced to each of the Avengers as they were individually stopped by the Tower. Steve had his own apartment in Brooklyn, and Bruce had left for one of his personal mercy missions two days before. 

Steve had pulled Thor aside and suggested he not introduce all the Avengers to Loki at the same time— they all be overwhelming at once. Thor had heeded his advice, remembering Loki’s reticence when Thor was with the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three. Thor only yearned for Loki’s comfort, as Loki had never been able to be comforted in Asgard. Here, there was no one watching, and Thor could shower upon his younger brother all the care he had been denied the opportunity to give in Asgard. On Midgard, he was but a warrior and not a prince, and even in Asgard warriors had family. 

He had taken Loki shopping once, and he had shuffled through the dense crowds of mortals characteristic to the City of New York. Though he bought a full wardrobe according to Loki’s taste— he had seemed almost overwhelmed by the sheer amount of choices available to mortal men— Loki seemed to prefer to prowl about the Tower in his Asgardian small clothes. 

However, when Loki let him in, he was dressed neatly in Midgardian wear; a pressed white shirt tucked into slacks and the sensible black boot he had brought with him from Asgard. His wild curls were slicked back and his face had been furiously scrubbed clean— his cheeks and jaw were still red. 

“You look well, Loki,” Thor said honestly, taking in his younger brother. The boy had browned and filled out some in the short time since he’d arrived, and he was quiet and pliant for the most part. He had not been violent or strange, now, when Thor felt that it was imperative.

“I do not want to disappoint the seithrkona,” he said, a small but proud grin on his face. “I want your friends to like me.”

Thor roared with laughter. “Lady Natasha is Warrior Lady Natasha. She does not practice the arts, but she and the Hawk are the last of the Avengers you are to meet before you are permitted to be in the presence of more vulnerable mortals.”

His face fell some, but he quickly wiped any evidence of upset from his face and plastered on a more congenial doll face. “Ah. I did not think the mortals were such cowards that they’d fear someone who is not even a warrior.” 

Thor gripped his wrist firmly, threateningly. “Do not insult the hospitality of the mortals,” he growled. “They have been very kind, to you and to me. And if this fails…”

“It will not,” Loki bit back. 

“...Good.” 

Loki turned away from him then, and the silence stretched out long enough that it became awkward and tense, though of course Loki betrayed no signs of discomfort and he fiddled with the buttons on his shirt and paced the length of the room sedately. Thor sat quietly and watched him. 

Perhaps it was foolish of him, but during the length of his banishment he’d always expected Loki to look exactly the same. His memory of his brother was in stasis— the image of an unhappy, sullen tormented child without company. Even the finery of Asgard that Loki had donned the last time Thor had seen him, at his botched coronation could not hide Loki’s failings. Already Midgard had been good for him; Loki had improved rapidly upon his limited free reign of the Tower, like a dog kept in a too-small cage for too long flourished in the pen. 

“You will be okay Loki,” Thor mustered a smile that was surprisingly genuine, and became more genuine when Loki’s green eyes met his own. “Soon, you will be free of the Thing and Ikol. Soon, all will be well.”

“...Do you really think so?” his voice was small and unsure, not cynical at all, and Thor latched onto this small show of vulnerability as truth. 

“Of course I do,” Thor slung his arm around Loki, leaning into him with a grin. “This will go well.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Loki reciprocated Thor’s affections. Thor’s heart swelled, but he simply held on a little tighter. His younger brother was like a frightened animal, he realized now, and honey worked better than brute force. He could not order Loki to trust him, but ifhe was consistently there, Loki would come to him of his own will.

Who else had he to go to? 

Holding his brother there, dressed in foreign clothes and shaking, Thor had a sudden epiphany, followed by the intense desire to travel back in the past and kick himself. 

Why in the world had he thought it was a good idea to abandon Loki all those years ago? And it was abandonment, he realized. Thor was all Loki had, and Thor had never realized it because never in his life, even with all the expectations of being the crowned prince, he’d always had someone to fall back onto. He wished that Loki were not here now, so that he could pull out the letters they’d exchanged and read it with new eyes— he’d known something was wrong and worsening with every word he read. 

Loki began to pull away, and Thor immediately released him from his arms. He did not want him to feel as if he were trapped. 

“Well then,” he straightened out his collar, vain as always, glanced in the mirror, and slid into the comfortable leather boots he’d brought with him from Asgard. “Let us go.”

Face carefully blank, he strode out ahead of Thor. Thor was suddenly struck by how much good Midgard already seemed to have done him. If they were in Asgard, Loki would have careful slunk out behind Thor, head bowed and shoulders curled. 

With a small smile, Thor followed. 

_________________________________________________________________________________

Natasha was dressed in her armored catsuit, though her guns were conspicuously absent, likely for Loki’s benefit. He did not know that she was dangerous, even to the aesir without them. Her face was hard and devoid of sympathy, fully the Black Widow and lacking the many masks Thor had seen her don in the three years they’d worked together.

She took in Loki blandly, then offered a smile— Thor knew it was sincere because it was so small and reserved, much like the mortal woman herself. Loki did not look apprehensive at all, but he could not muster up a smile in return. He forcibly stilled his hands.

Thor put a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder, and Loki subtly shook it off. 

“Lady Natasha,” Thor stepped closer, “This is my little brother, Loki.”

Se eyed him, “Not so little, huh?” 

Thor blinked, surprised at her comment. He looked at Loki, who had always been a head taller or more than Loki, but then, Loki was much taller than most mortals, except perhaps the captain and few exceptionally statuesque people. 

“He’s several hundred of your years younger than I,” he grinned, though Loki did not look quite as amused. 

Natasha nodded. “So, Loki,” she said, addressing him directly for the first time, “I’m the Black Widow, as I assume Thor must have told you, and I think it’s best that we just get straight to the point.”

“What,” Loki asked, a small grin pulling at thin lips, “my madness?”

“Exactly that,” she said, “except here on Earth it’s called a mental illness.”

“I am not infirm,” Loki said, folding his hands behind his back, “I am fine.”

Natasha gestured for the two of them to follow her into the lab, where a short black woman with catty eyes, dressed in a sharp pantsuit sat flicking through her starkPhone. 

“Mental illness isn’t like a physical illness,” she said. “You might be the only one aware of it.”

“So you believe me, then?” Loki said, and Thor jolted sharply at his acerbic tone. “No one has ever believed me about what I know.”

“Know?” Natasha asked, “Not see?”

“Know,” Loki nodded firmly. “I’m not a liar. I never have been.”

“That’s besides the point,” the woman at the table finally spoke. Her voice was low, husky, and pleasant. Thor was immediately wary of it; something about her demeanor reminded him of Lorelei, Amora the Enchantress’ wicked younger sister. It was off putting to say the least, considering the woman looked tiny even by Midgardian standards and lacked the buxom beauty the asynja sister were famous for. 

“This is Dr. Alesha Vergara,” Natasha took a seat beside the aforementioned doctor, “She is the psychiatrist Thor told you about.”

Thor opened his mouth to answer; he was not aware that Loki was to see the mind healers, but Loki spoke over him. He suddenly realized that Natasha has not been addressing him. It was strange, but realized, he had gotten so used to being the one that people spoke to that he was not even aware that people were willing speak to Loki.

“It is very nice to meet you, Dr. Vergara,” he said. He finally smiled, a charming half-turn of the lips that would have looked awkward on anyone else, yet it suited the young man just fine. Thor hadn’t realized exactly how much he had missed that smile.

Dr. Vergara smiled back, and any thought of the Enchantress and her sister were banished from Thor’s mind at once,for it was a wide and bright smile, dotted by two dimple beneath the corners of her lips, and above all, sincere. 

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said, “has anyone told you what to expect?”

Loki shrugged— Thor wondered where he had picked up the gesture, because before Thor had been banished to Midgard he had never seen it before— “I was told you are a seidrkona of Midgardian magics, and that you will use you power to excise the Thing from my mind once and for all.”

Dr. Vergara blinked, black wide with surprise. Ah, Thor was intimately familiar with that expression; it was the same one Steve and Jane got when he did something odd by their standards. She obviously had no idea what Loki was talking about, and Thor began to second-guess his decision to bring Loki here at all.

“Well,” she said after a long pause, “I guess it’ll be something like that.”

Loki smiled again, but this time, it was anything but a friendly expression. Thor tightened his firm grip on his brother’s arm from behind, though he knew if Loki was truly determined to cause harm he could do nothing in his enfeebled, mortal state to stop him. 

“No it won’t,” Loki said dryly. “You’re lying, and you think I’m too stupid to notice. Thor said that you mortals could help me, but I think Ikol was right again and he just wants to lock me in a different prison.” His long, thin hands drifted toward his cuff. “Isn’t that right, Thor?”

“Of course not,” Dr. Vergara answered for Thor and the fierceness of her answer startled Loki out of his own embittered downward spiral. “Don’t be silly. You used a lot of words I didn’t know, so I just agreed with you. But I see you’re a bit too clever for that to fly, and that’s okay.”  
“...so you did think I was stupid?” his pale eyes were narrow and assessing, and he completely ignored Thor’s warning glare. 

“I think you’re very angry, and that’s okay,” she folded her hands on that table. “Just please understand that attacking me won’t help you,” she held her hand up to silence his protest, “and that includes attacking me verbally. Since you weren’t told what to expect— and that’s not your fault— I’ll tell you.”

“We’re going to have weekly sessions, you and I—”

“Just you?” Loki asked strangely. “No one else?”

“If you want, you can have your brother sit in on the first couple sessions until you’re more comfortable,” Dr. Vergara said. “In these sessions, we’ll talk—”

“About what?”

She shrugged. “Anything.”

“About the Thing?”

“If you want. Loki, we will talk about anything you want to. Anything that you are comfortable with.”

“It’s not my comfort I’m worried about,” Loki said snidely. “Thor and the Queen never could stand to hear about the Thing. They always told me to stop pretending and be a man. They told me I was too old for imaginary games. But if I could never hear the Thing again...”

“Loki,” Thor started, but a sharp look from Natasha silenced him. 

“I won’t make you any promises, Loki,” Dr. Vergara said. “I can’t promise that I can magically silence the things in your head. I’m not strong enough for that. Only you are. A mental illness is like a terminal illness. It might never go away, but there are ways to live with it and conquer it. With a combination of therapy and medication maybe we’ll be able to make those things go away for good. But it has to start with you. There is no magical solution, no magic pill I can give you that will destroy them.”

Thor’s heart broke as Loki’s chin dipped despondently. “You’re like all the others, then.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Dr. Vergara did not rise to the bait, and her voice was steady. “Were ‘all the others’, as you put it, working to change you? Did you expect them to do it for you? Have you ever tried to change yourself?”

Loki was silent; he looked calm, but beneath Thor’s grip, he trembled; with what, Thor did not know. 

“Are you ready for this, Loki?” Dr. Vergara asked gently, stretching out a small brown hand.  
The silence stretched on for an uncomfortably long time. Loki stared at Dr. Vergara’s outstretched hand, yet she did not rescind her offer. Finally, he clasped her forearm, and she jolted in surprise. By now, Thor knew that she had expected a handshake, a promise, and did not understand that she had been given so much more: an oath. 

“Well,” Loki said in a light voice, “I suppose I this is what I came to Midgard for. Another disappointment won’t kill me. Or maybe it will...it doesn’t matter to me anymore. When do these sessions start?”

“What better time than now?” Natasha spoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ao3 editor is being fucking shit it keeps eating my page breaks and spaces.Usually when I put in the page breaks I get the nice ones like in Domestic Vice but I keep getting an ugly as shit line of dashes. If anyone knows how to resolve this lemme know. Drop a review to let me know if you liked it! Or if you hated it.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first half, sorry if it's a little lacklustre. Oh well. ^_^  
> Avengers will appear next chapter!  
> Thank you for reading! Please comment, kudos, all that jazz.


End file.
